The Ties That Bind Us
by Tia-Pixie
Summary: A series of one-shots that will be updated sporadically but mostly unrelated scenes from Fili and Kili's upbringing with Thorin, Dis and their father with cameos from other characters.
1. Training - Dis

I watched my brother work for few moments before speaking – he knew I was there, as always. "Thorin, they are just children," I sighed, "you asked too much of them."

"They are Durin's line," my brother replied firmly, barely looking up from his work.

"No," I said loudly, exasperated by how my brother, for all his superior years and all his wisdom could be so very…dim-witted. Why could he not see what was so clear to me? "No. They are _our _line – _your_ line."

"It is the same thing!"

"No, it's not!"

He growled, throwing down his tools with a loud clang and turning to me. Clearly, my brother thought to frighten me with his huffing and puffing, well, I had had a lifetime of his foul moods; they neither impressed nor intimidated me anymore. I stood firm, crossing my arms. We glared at one another for the longest while until I began to think he would explode from holding his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. Finally, he released a harsh breath and spoke again, in a carefully even – _reasonable_ – tone.

"They have to learn, Sister. Your eldest is almost – "

"_My eldest_?" I demanded, outraged. That he should stand there and refuse my son – his heir – even so slight a sign of acknowledgment as his _name_ incensed me. I grabbed the nearest object that I could throw at him and took aim.

"Have a care!" he warned loudly, stepping away slightly. "Have a care – this is a forge! It is dangerous enough, woman!"

Woman_? Woman? _Of all the – ! I launched my missile, missing by a fraction and taking up my next object. I did not go through the agony of birthing my brother's heirs that I might be '_woman-ed'_ by him! "_Woman_?!" I repeated incredulously, taking aim once more. "And '_my eldest'_?!"

"FILI!" He roared, looking warily at the heavy tongs I held in my hand. I paused, lowering my arm slightly before relenting and placing it down. He sighed and continued, "_Fili_ is almost nine years old and he can barely lift his hammer, much less make his target. And as for his brother, he has – "

"Because it is far too heavy for him! And Kili has plenty of time – they _both_ do!" I ignored his sigh, throwing his hands up in frustration that I would not see his side. Why could _he_ not see that my children – his nephews – wanted so desperately to please him but they were not yet old enough or big enough for the things he expected of them? It was all so beastly unfair – cruel – of him to expect from my boys what was not expected of him and our brother. "Frerin was not made to take up his first weapon until the age of ten!"

"Yes! And Frerin is _dead_! Is that what you want for your boys?"

A horrified silence descended between us, even Dwalin at his anvil at the back of the forge stopped his hammering. Despite the heat, my brother's face paled as I suspected my own had. We spoke of Frerin, of course, we did, we had to so that my sons might know they would have had two uncles if not for the evils of the world. We did not speak of his death. Not even when the memory of it from half a century ago woke my elder brother up screaming out his name. Thorin turned away from me, shoulders heaving, clearly as shocked as I was at his outburst. Eventually, Dwalin took up his hammering again. Still my brother did not turn. I didn't know what to say. Frerin's death had ever been a topic of silent contemplation for us, not something to be hurled at one another in the heat of an argument.

"They have to learn," my brother repeated quietly, his back to me. "As I did."

The steely sorrow in his voice gave me pause. I was furious and beyond hurt, certainly, but something in the way his shoulders slumped spoke to me of a deeper reasoning. I had not the time to speak with him for I needed to get home to my little ones – I had been informed of the disastrous training session and the criticism from my brother that my boys had endured and been so incensed that I had come here immediately. My ire only receded when I came upon him and saw his face. Although carefully masked in his usual self-righteousness and clearly still severely agitated by the day's events, I knew my elder brother of old and I knew how his guilt seemed non-existent but for the minimal tightening of his jaw and flinching as he heard his offences laid bare.

"I…I have to go," I told him quietly, "I will speak with them about today but I have told you my thoughts on the matter. They will not change."

As I turned to leave, I heard him sigh heavily before taking up his tools again and returning to work.

* * *

I opened the door to my boys' room knowing they would be there, no doubt banished to it by my brother several hours earlier. They looked up as I entered, dashing tears from their cheeks and sliding off the bed to come to me. I thought very darkly of my brother as I embraced them, lifting Kili into my arms and walking back to the bed. For a little while none of us spoke, Kili sitting wide-eyed on the pillows watching as I rubbed soothing ointment over his brother's aching shoulders.

"Is Uncle very angwy?" my youngest murmured, dark eyes serious.

"No," I assured him wearily, "Uncle is not angry."

"Is he disappointed?" Fili asked, raising his eyes to mine.

I sighed and leant back, drawing his hands into mine. "Uncle is…troubled, but he was wrong to upset you as he did."

"Uncle did not upset me, Mama, I was upset because…" he stopped, lower lip quivering. I reached out, raising his chin to look into his watery eyes.

"What upset you, my son?"

"I cannot lift it, Mama, not properly." The shame in my son's voice made me want to hurl every tool in my brother's workshop at their supercilious master.

"I know," I whispered, wiping away his tears. "But you will, one day."

"Uncle wants it now."

"Then Uncle will have to wait, until you are bigger."

Fili sniffled, gazing unhappily at me. "You do promise I will get bigger?"

"Of course," I laughed, brushing the wild locks away from his face, "why ever would you not?"

Fili shrugged, looking away embarrassed. He was admittedly going through a short phase; all his friends suddenly seemed so much taller and broader than he, I wondered if it might be the reason for my brother's sudden insistence that he move up a grade in weaponry.

"Will I get bigger?" came a small voice to my left.

"Course you will," replied Fili easily, before I could answer.

"As big as Fili?" Kili asked me suspiciously, unsure as to whether his brother was lying to him.

"Maybe."

"As big as Uncle Thowin?"

"No!" Fili giggled, as if his brother had said something absolutely ridiculous.

I leant over and pushed some of Kili's dark hair behind his ears – I really ought to braid it more but it only falls out five minutes later. "Well," I said smiling at him, "why not?"

Fili giggled again and wiped away the last of his tears, "Kili will _never _be as big as Thorin, Mama, he's too little!"

"But you just said I'd grow!"

"Not _that _much – Mama tell him!"

"You will _both _grow as to be as big and as strong as your Uncle if," I raised my brows at them, "_if _you eat your vegetables."

"Even the – ?"

"Even the green ones, yes, Kili." My youngest pouted thoughtfully, seemingly trying to weigh up whether it was worth it. "Now," I said, reaching to tickle them both lightly, "your Uncle will be home soon and I will not have you go to bed looking like little goblin boys so to the bathing chamber, both of you!" If nothing else, the warm water would soothe my eldest son's sore muscles. My brother's stupidity quite astounded me – not only had he succeeded in shaming my poor child, he had injured him with his insistence that he keep trying when he so clearly couldn't manage what was being asked of him. He would not have treated our brother in such a way, I'm certain.

Despite their disastrous training session (if one could call it that) and although my elder son's eyes still filled off and on, they both chattered quite happily while they bathed. I did perhaps allow them to splash both me and each other more than usual. As I was lifting Kili from the tub, we heard heavy footsteps pass the door heading to my brother's rooms. We all froze though I must confess it took all my self-control not to charge after him and berate him once again. There was time for that later, when the boys were in bed and could not hear if he chose to say such hurtful things again.

"Mama?"

I turned back to my youngest, his plump little face suddenly full of worry again. "What is it, my dear one?" Alarmed, I drew him to me as he burst into tears. I looked to Fili for explanation but he shook his head, unwilling to betray his little brother's confidences. "Kili?"

My son took several shuddery breaths, pushing back from me and gazing at me with his dark, shame-filled eyes. "Mama, I – " he choked on a sob, my dear, devoted Fili going to comfort him.

"Kili? Kili tell Mama – she will not be angry, I'm sure," he implored, glancing to me for confirmation.

His brother managed to swallow his sobs just long enough to choke out "Mama, I hit Uncle Thowiiiiin!" his last syllable dragged out as his wailing overcame him again. Relieved and, I confess, slightly amused, I gathered him to me once more, petting his soft hair.

"That was naughty indeed, Kili," I told him as firmly as I could bear to while he was so distressed, "but surely, it is not worth so many tears?"

"But – but what if I hurted him?" He hiccoughed, blinking at me sadly. This time, I did share a tiny smile with my elder son. The very thought of Kili – whom my brother could stand on his knee and still be almost a whole head taller than – being able to injure my sturdy older brother with his little fists was entirely ludicrous. Even so, my son looked so distraught at the thought of it that I did not dare laugh for fear of upsetting further.

"Nay," I said, shaking my head at him, "you could not hurt him, Kili. And he knows you would never have meant to. Do not worry so."

Kili began to nod but stopped suddenly as the door to our chamber opened. My soot-blackened brother appeared in the doorway having stripped off his jerkin and boots leaving him in undershirt and trousers clearly expecting us to have vacated the bathing chamber. At the sight of my brother however, Kili dissolved into tears once more. Thorin paused on the door threshold, face slackening in shock at Kili's reaction and looking as though he would dearly like to leave again.

"Uncle," Fili began timidly, "you are not angry at Kili, are you?" My heart swelled with pride – my brave little Fili, putting aside his own upset and fears of my brother to gain reassurance for his brother. Crossing to us, Thorin dropped to one knee beside me, surprise and concern showing openly upon his face.

"Angry?" He asked, his gaze flicking briefly to Fili. "Nay, I am not angry. Why should I be?"

"He's scared…because he hit you."

My brother released a short huff of laughter, raising one hand to my younger son's shaking back. "Kili? Kili, come now, what is this?"

I felt Kili pause in his crying at the gentle touch and his uncle's unusually concerned voice. I know from my own experiences of him both as a child and into my adulthood that my brother, for all his tempers and his gruff exterior, can be quite the master at comfort. When he feels he absolutely has to be. Sniffling, Kili turned his head towards my brother now, though he remained half hidden against my neck.

"What is this?" Thorin repeated softly, his hand moving to brush the wild hair away from Kili's face. Leaning forwards, he lifted my son from my arms – damp towel and all – and stood with him, hushing him quietly. "Kili, hear me," he said gently, though his brows were furrowed, "I am not angry about today – you were very brave to defend you brother as you did. I am certain he is grateful to have such a fierce younger brother behind him, protecting him from," he paused and looked at Fili and myself, "from those tyrants who would do him wrong, even if they do not intend it as such."

I reached out one arm and drew Fili closer to my side, returning the small smile he sent me.

"Not cross?" Kili asked in a small voice, clutching at Thorin's shirt though not daring to look at him.

"No, lad," Thorin confirmed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "not cross." Drawing him away from his chest, my brother looked down at Kili intently. "And you, little one, are you still cross at me for ill-treating your big brother so?"

Kili's brow furrowed seriously, his little face so alike my brother's but for his eyes. "You shouted _vewy_ loud, Uncle," he said uncertainly. He slid his gaze to Fili and myself, eyes questioning. I felt somewhat irked that my brother had chosen to seek forgiveness from my youngest first who was bound to forgive him anything, and I scowled knowingly at Thorin. Still, it would not do to have either of my boys at odds with their beloved uncle if only for their own happiness. And, though I felt it an injustice to my elder son for Thorin had yet to admit any wrongdoing – to him at least – I nodded slightly. Beside me, Fili simply said, "It's all right, Kili."

Kili turned back to my brother, who raised his brows encouragingly at him. My son's face lit up and he beamed happily at him, wrapping pudgy arms around his neck once more. Placing him back on the floor, Thorin looked at him in mock sternness.

"_You_, young sir, are filthy."

"But we just had a bath!" Outraged and dismayed, Kili turned to me for support. "Mama, tell him!"

Regrettably, my brother was right. Although Kili _had _been clean, he had also just spent several minutes wrapped in my brother's filthy, blackened arms and rubbing his face against Thorin's soot-stained beard.

"_You_ got him dirty," I pointed out mildly, standing and defiantly taking Fili's hand to lead him to the door. "And you're about to bathe anyway." My brother's resigned, slightly pleading, "_Sister_!" was quite satisfying as we left the room.

* * *

When Thorin and Kili eventually reappeared, Fili and I were sat in my sons' bed whilst I told him tales of my brothers' exploits as children in Erebor (though I did not recall many of the events myself). Some of them were, I admit, embellished whilst others were decidedly censored for his ears. I suspect however, that he has heard the same stories in full from others – Dwalin is particularly fond of telling tales and the filthier and more inappropriate the better.

Thorin entered, Kili wrapped in his now (almost) clean arms and snoring quietly. Seeing this, I slid from the bed so that Thorin could reach across Fili, who held carefully still so not to jostle them, and place Kili down. As he drew back, Thorin brushed one hand across Fili's golden head. Crouching on the floor next to him, Thorin gazed at him intently for a moment. Fili looked back nervously, unsure if he was about to be reprimanded again.

"I could not strike an axe or hammer blow sufficient to do any more than knock someone off their balance until I was near seventeen," my brother announced suddenly, studying my son's face for his reaction. "My grandfather – your great-grandfather, Thror – bade me take up training from the age of six; I could not lift a sword, let alone a hammer."

Fili watched him with such open astonishment that I had to fight a grin. My brother was flushing fiercely despite telling my son these truths of his own accord – it did not erase his earlier misconduct but I did feel a swell of affection for my proud older brother returning.

"When you are better," Thorin continued, rubbing my son's shoulder regretfully, "we shall put aside the hammer for now and begin with the sword. There is no shame in a sword, not if it is wielded skilfully."

"What if I cannot lift that either?" Fili asked plaintively, his eyes filling.

"We shall begin with a wooden one – I haven't a real one small enough for you yet and your Mother," he paused and glanced up at me, "would no doubt object to my letting you loose with metal straight away."

Fili turned and shot an annoyed look at me. Thank you, Brother, for placing all blame on me. He was right, of course, but from memories of my own training, it was _he_ who had demanded I not be let loose with a real sword until I had practiced for at least two years.

"Kili should learn too – I'm sure he could lift a wooden sword if it were _very_ little," Fili said, eyeing both of us hopefully. A rare, delighted grin spread across my brother's face then and he suddenly drew my son into an embrace.

"Yes," he agreed, squeezing Fili tightly, "Yes, Kili must learn too."

"If he starts now though," Fili said, suddenly uncertain, "by the time he's my age he'll be better than me!"

Both my brother and I laughed a little at his concerns. "He may not favour the sword, Fili, or you might return to the hammer – do not worry."

"Anyway, what if he is?" Thorin asked, his voice taking on a slight warning tone. "You may be glad to know it one day."

"Was Uncle Frerin ever better than you? Or at least as good as?"

My brother paused and his suddenly troubled eyes sought me out. I felt my chest constrict, and I nodded slightly, placing my hand on his shoulder. He placed one of his own, paw-like hands over mine, squeezing slightly. "No," he said finally, "no, he was not." _And Frerin is dead_, I thought_._

Fili nodded sleepily then, turning over to face Kili and wrapping one arm over him as always. Dismissed, Thorin walked us both to the door, his hand still loosely wrapped around mine. Closing the door, he turned to me, a troubled frown gracing his features.

"Sister, I – "

"Don't. Please, let me speak."

He nodded reluctantly.

"You should not have shouted at them as you did, nor forced Fili to continue through his pain," I told him sternly.

"I thought only to – " he broke off, jaw working furiously, "I did not know, did not _see_ he was in such pain."

"He hid it from you well," I conceded, knowing how my son would have fought to keep his uncle from seeing his struggle. "But you should have seen, Thorin."

"I didn't realise it was that bad," he admitted regretfully. Suddenly, a thought seemed to strike him and a small grin began to tug at the corner of his mouth, "Not even when Kili _beat_ me so soundly for it."

"I hope you will learn from your punishment, Brother," I teased, feeling the warmth between us return.

He grinned but suddenly, sobered. "Frerin would not have fought for me as your little one did for Fili," he informed me a touch of bitterness entering his voice.

"You are not so terrifying a master as Thror or our father," I told him, placing my hand on his folded arms. "Kili knows he needn't fear you, not really."

My brother snorted. "Does he indeed?"

"And Frerin would have you know, if you had let him."

Thorin glared at me, though it was short-lived. "You are growing melancholy, Sister," he informed me dismissively though I know his thoughts were still on our brother. He led us down the passage to the kitchens adding, "And I am growing hungry, so enough of this now."

I laughed and bumped my shoulder with his. He returned it, winking at me fondly. I loved my big brother dearly though I was not blind to his flaws, and this side of him, this private side that proved he could be and was something besides Durin's heir had become so rare when we were children but had been lost completely in our days of wandering and grief. Now, settled and, for the most part happy here in Ered Luin, though it would never be Erebor, this side of him was beginning to return if only a little. Some part of me, the part that I would not reveal to my brother as long as I live– for he is yet the Prince – thinks that perhaps we could truly settle here and be happy. Be content.

I am a daughter of kings-under-the-mountain, a princess by birth, but first, I am a mother, first, I am a sister.


	2. Missing - Thorin

**_A/N: Apologies for leaving it so long between updates. I have a really bad habit of posting first chapters when I have nothing written for the rest of them but to be fair, these are unconnected so it'll never be a cliffhanger ending. _**

**_Also, a quick note to _****_Acidpop_****_and _****_Autumn_****_: Thanks to both of you for the reviews - really appreciate them and I hope I don't disappoint! _**

**_And also to _****_Anubislover_****_ who asked so nicely to see more of Dis and Thorin's relationship, I hope you enjoy the final part of this. I think there'll probably be quite a bit of them in updates to come as well. Hope I did them justice for you._**

**_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first one and I hope you all continue to enjoy! T._**

* * *

Had there ever been a Fili without Kili? Had my eldest ever known what it was to be the only instead of the first? How would he bear it if it should come to pass now? These thoughts, fractured as they were, were all that filled my mind as I walked. Behind me, I heard whispered words of loss and sympathy from my companions – most a father, or at least an uncle like me – who thought that he could imagine, could understand, what it was to be me at that moment. I hated them. Truly, in that moment, with all my being, _despised_ them.

Overhead, the moon peered out from darkened clouds that foretold of yet more storms and downpours. It bathed the world in cold, silver light that cast shadows across familiar sights – the buildings he had scaled, the well that he had once persuaded Fili to lower him into 'just because', the path along which he would trail to meet me from my work, incessant chattering that would make my head spin. I could not bear to look at them – I saw his ghost everywhere, on each one. I stumbled, my heart seizing. To my right, Balin paused, reached out a hand to guide me towards home. It was a testament to my grief that I should allow such treatment from him, from anybody.

As we came within sight of the house, I stopped, unable to take another step. From deep within my mind, a voice not unlike my father's demanded I get control of myself. It was undignified to show such blatant discomposure before my fellows – my people. Vaguely, I heard Balin and Oin dismissing our company with quiet promises of keeping them informed. I could have laughed. A dwarfling, who not yet seen seven Winters, missing since dawn and gone Aule knew where with rain as had not been seen in the Blue Mountains in all the time since we had settled there. What more news could there possibly be that every one of us could not already foretell?

"Go back to your houses," my voice was rough but somehow I managed to keep it steady. I knew not how. In answer, two hands descended upon my shoulders firmly, squeezing. My cousins stood to my sides, though neither looked at me. "Go back to – "

"We'll see you to the door, laddie."

My skin crawled at being spoken to like that – '_laddie'_ as if I were not their king, as if I were no older than a dwarfling – than my nephews! I thought to strike him down. Strike both of them. Before I could however, something in me froze, replacing whatever anger was in me with grief. Nephews? _Nephew_. As of this night, I had but one sister-son. I could not have fought off either of my cousins then if I had tried. So strange, this weakness.

I knew not how but when next I opened my eyes, my sister's door was before me, flying open as we approached.

"Kili?" my nephew flew from his mother's arms, hopeful eyes seeking out his brother. "Uncle?" There was such heartbroken confusion in his voice that I thought I might break down and weep. He turned his eyes on me now, barely glancing at my companions. "Uncle? Where…where is he?"

I could not look at him. Could not bear to see his disappointment at my failure. I raised my eyes to Dís, my dearest, most treasured sister. I shook my head. Ever so slightly. My nephew saw it anyway.

"NO!" I daresay all of us – perhaps Fili included – were surprised at the anger in his voice, the accusation – as if I had intentionally returned without his brother.

I did not speak to interrupt his ranting, did not tell him that nigh on everyone he knew had spent all evening – some, like me, giving up their day's wage – searching for our lost boy. In truth, I scarcely looked at him, my eyes not leaving my sister's face. She held my gaze a moment before turning away and I thought my heart, such as it is, would break for the ruin in her eyes. Finally, my eyes sought out my one remaining nephew. Through his frenzy, I had been vaguely aware of his striking me over and over, small hands thumping at every part of me that he could reach. I did not notice him stop, though Oin now held him securely against himself, my nephews struggling becoming weaker as his sobbing overcame him. I knelt beside him and, at my nod, Oin released his hold on him.

"Fili…"

He swung, one fist catching me square across the jaw. I fell back in shock, pain blossoming across my face. Had I not felt so wretchedly hopeless, I would have been proud. His eyes widened, face slackening in surprise and, unless I were much mistaken, guilt. Above us, I heard Balin and Oin's shocked exclamations but far louder, I heard my nephew's whimper as his face crumpled once more. Instinctively, I reached out for him but he would have none of it, or me.

Turning, he darted out of my grasp and after his mother leaving me once more alone with my companions. There followed a slightly shocked silence.

"Will we go out again, Thorin?" Oin asked, his hand upon my shoulder once more. When I did not answer, Balin spoke up for me, sending Oin away and advising him to take shelter from the storm that was moving in. Used to living primarily underground where the seasons and the elements cannot reach us, we dwarves do not fare well in rain. Although he had never been far from them, my thoughts turned once more to my lost nephew who, even now, was out there alone, most likely afraid, possibly even injured. I could scarce breathe from the anguish in my heart.

"Thorin?" My sister's voice startled me from my thoughts, her pale face appearing in front of me where I was still kneeling on the increasingly wet earth. Though her breath hitched, she was the picture of dignified composure – far more than could be said for me I shouldn't wonder. "Come inside, Brother." She ordered resignedly, "the hour is late. There…there is nothing more to be done."

* * *

As I dried off, my clothes steaming over the hearth, I watched my sister's movements. Though clearly wearied, she showed none of the weakness I was showing. I ought to have been comforting her and her son, not leaving Fili to comfort himself whilst she waited on me. When our brother died, I had not offered her comfort; too consumed with my rage, my self-hatred and the increasing demands of my position as Prince, I kept her from my thoughts as deliberately as she kept herself from my company. We could not bear to be around one another for weeks yet here she was, her youngest son gone, and she busied herself with drying my clothes. It was utter madness.

"Do you blame me, Sister?" I had not intended to say it aloud, but there it was.

"No," she assured me tearfully. I nodded, toying with the idea of going to her but of course, I would not. What good could it do? Even so, the sight of her so valiantly fighting off tears pulled at heart.

"I should hope not," I told her eventually, summoning the cool dignity and self-control with which I had been raised.

It was no failing of mine that her son could not be found. Nor indeed, was it my fault that he had strayed so far from home without being stopped in the first place. I could not control the weather and I could not _force_ our kinsmen and neighbours to continue looking for my fool of a nephew when to do so would be dangerous to them. It was neither her fault, nor Fili's that our boy had wandered so far from home – though some small part of me whispered that surely _someone_ had been watching him. It was nobody's fault but his own that he likely now lay somewhere, cold and unmoving. If he had not…I raised my hand to my eyes, unable to even comprehend my thoughts.

Presently, the door opened and a dishevelled Fili wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. He paused on the threshold, glancing at me before going to his mother. Absentmindedly, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders, rubbing gently.

"It is late," I was mildly surprised to find myself so harsh, "You ought to be in bed."

Fili's answer was to press himself closer to my sister, staring reproachfully out from underneath her arm.

"Thorin, leave him be."

"It is late," I repeated firmly, pinching the bridge of my nose. Could they not see that it did no good to be weighed down by one's emotions? Fili, a child, had no place here. There would be time for mourning but this was not it. "He has training in the morning – he should be asleep!"

"Mama?" Fili began plaintively, clearly having decided to ignore me completely. I could not summon the energy to care – if he would not sleep then so be it. It was his choice, as it had been his brother's choice to run off and get lost. "Kili is afraid of storms – he doesn't like the thunder giants. We have to go and find him!"

"There are no thunder giants in Ered Luin, Fili," I informed him, somewhat tersely. Why could he not just go to bed and leave me in peace? More importantly, why did I not go to bed myself and leave them to comfort each other? They'd surely be of more use to each other than I could be to either of them. Against my will, memories of my youngest nephew filled my mind, terrified and half-asleep, he would often wander into my room seeking my protection from the raging weather. But no more.

"I will go and look for him!" Fili declared hotly, staring at me with open condemnation. I avoided his gaze, I would not – could not – see that look upon my nephew's face. "If you will not go, then I will!"

We all jumped as a particularly deafening roll of thunder rent the air. Self-loathing and the desire to uphold my family's self-possession fought inside of me, I could feel myself tremble with the effort of remaining outwardly calm whilst within me, my grief for my little nephew threatened to overwhelm me. I heard my sister 'shushing' my nephew, could see her rocking him gently and felt my breathing become ragged. I closed my eyes against the warm hearth and flashing lightning, attempted to close my heart to my sister and child's grief but of course it was to no avail.

A life of war and suffering and loss teaches one to become cold, reserved, but what use was that now, here? Death came to the old and the sick, to those too _weak_ to defend themselves from life's foes. It should not come to rosy-cheeked, strong little boys whose only troubles involved too-watchful guardians and imaginary evils.

"Uncle?" Fili's voice had turned desperate, tearful once more. He came to stand at my side, raising one hand to mine. "Please?"

I would not look. I would not. But breaking through my thoughts came my nephew's voice, asking – _begging_ – me to do something. To make this right, to return his little brother to him and his mother. And suddenly, as if waking from a dream, I realised. Dís, my brave, dignified, _dearest_ sister, was crying. As was my nephew.

And Kili was afraid of storms.

Kili _is_ afraid of storms.

I left the house without a backwards glance, heading to call for help from my fellow dwarves again. I would find him. I _would_. Even if it took me all night – even if it meant forfeiting a _week's_ earnings. My nephew – my treasured smallest nephew – was missing and alone and _terrified_ of this raging weather.

* * *

The storm, though still erupting over the mountains, had passed somewhat by the time I made it to the woods again. I scanned the many different routes that my nephew could have taken that morning hoping – wishing – for some sign that told me which one to take. It dawned on me that if anyone could have helped, my elder nephew probably could have; he would know their favourite places, favourite trees to climb or paths to run along. But then, Fili had spent most of the afternoon looking too and he had not found him. A familiar hopelessness began to settle inside of me. There were too many places, too many paths and why should I find him now, when a group of fifteen had not been able to? And in daylight no less.

Lifting my hands to my mouth, I called, raising my voice as high as I could to be heard above the storm. Shouted until my throat was raw and I could almost _feel_ the fever I would have the next day. To my left, the usually trickling stream gushed and splashed like rapids. Several times, I thought I caught sight of him being buffeted about by the water but came up empty handed each time with only driftwood or other debris. Each time, I would feel my heart freeze and my eyes stinging before the moment of realisation set in that it was not my nephew and that he may yet be safe.

All around me, when there was a lull in the weather, I would hear others shouting his name, calling over and over again but there never came any answer. Each time we came across one another they would cast me such looks of pity that I thought I would explode from my rage. How dare they give up? How dare they decide whether my nephew was alive or dead?! Though deep inside of me, I confess, I agreed. As the night wore on, I knew – I just _knew_ – that we were not looking for my happy, _healthy_ little nephew anymore.

No matter. I would find him now even if I were the only one left looking. I would not return to my sister and her remaining son without him.

"THORIN!"

I looked up wildly, looking about me for the source of the cry. Had that been Dwalin? Balin? And which direction?

I took several readying breaths before shouting at the top of my lungs. "WHO CALLS?" Several voices answered me, though I could not tell who they were. I ran towards their voices, crashing through the undergrowth though the brambles whipped my face and snagged at my hair. My companions kept up their shouting that I would know which direction to go. After what seemed like an age, I found them, huddled together underneath a great oak tree staring fearfully up into its branches. Joining them, I too looked up.

Had I been less out of breath and had the situation been less dire, I would have laughed. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if I had, so relieved was I. Peering down at us from one of the lower braches (though it was still _very_ high in dwarf terms – particularly in relation to my _tiny _nephew), I could make out my nephew's pale face and huge, dark eyes. I released a funny, choking sound that may or may not have been a dry sob and looked expectantly around at my companions.

"Well?" I barked hoarsely, "Don't just stand there, we need to get him down!" From above me, I heard my nephew make sounds that were most definitely sobs. Looking back up, I could see him preparing to dangle himself from the branch in his desperation to get to us. "Don't you dare!" I shouted, before I could stop myself, seeing the way the branches were moving in the wind and hoping I had only imagined the way my nephew's perch had seemed to fall a few inches towards us as he moved. Calming myself, I said firmly, "Just do not move. Kili, we will get you down but do not move. Do you understand me?"

Still sobbing, Kili nodded slowly, retreating back onto his perch. I don't know what we would have done if what happened next had not happened; we were too far away from the town to fetch a ladder or anything else we could use to get him down. Fortunately, though I have always told my sister some tale of standing on shoulders or some such nonsense, there came a tremendous flash of lightning and my nephew hurled himself at me from his perch. Of course, being so small and so afraid, he had misjudged his leap and it was only by the quick reactions of Dwalin that he did not crash to the earth. I stood frozen for a moment, horrified, before rushing at them both.

My nephew clung to me, squalling like a babe and in all honesty, I could not say who trembled more. I tucked his freezing body against mine, pointlessly wrapping my drenched furs around him and brushing my hand over his hair. I could hardly breathe so great was my relief at having him in my arms, alive and, from what I could tell, blessedly unharmed. I do not know how long we stood there, in the pouring rain before it occurred to me to start walking back. Gradually, I became aware that I was pointlessly repeating his name over and over and that he had at some point stopped his wailing and begun to simply weep against my shoulder. Stopping and holding him out before me, as if he were no more than a sack of flour, I schooled my features into a scowl. I had very little need of pretence. I had no intention of pampering him after such behaviour – he had no business being this far from the town without even his brother to watch him and he knew it.

"What in _Durin's_ name are you doing out here?" I thundered, shaking him slightly.

My nephew hiccupped, no doubt surprised at my anger before dissolving back into sobbing, reaching out to me with both arms, near begging to be held once more.

"Thorin…" I heard several of my fellows' soft reprimands, though none of them dared tell me outright that they disapproved.

"Kili! Answer me!"

To his credit, he did try. Several times, he opened his mouth and began some sort of explanation but his words were so garbled by his bawling that in the end even I had to concede it was hopeless.

I vaguely heard someone behind me mutter "For pity's sake, if he'll not comfort the poor laddie…" but its speaker was cut off before I could recognise who it had been. Though, admittedly, I did not much care. Kili's eyes were screwed shut as he wailed, arms and legs flailing and I was just beginning to think he would soon have cried himself out when his tears became interspersed with retching as if he would be ill. I could stand it no longer, this was intolerable! I brought him to me again, nodding my thanks when Balin removed his own outer garment for me to wrap around the tiny form. Still, he clung to me.

* * *

We reached town much faster it seemed to me, than we had before. Again, my companions left us one by one, most pausing to pet the hair or caress the cheek of my quietly sniffling nephew. Dwarflings are so rarely born, when one of us loses one for whatever reason, we each feel it as if it had been our own. Now that I had Kili safe with me, I could appreciate their kind words from earlier – they had been no less sincere than those I had spoken to them when the occasion called for it. My nephew barely stirred as they bid him goodnight, head barely peeking out from my pelts. I knew I ought to make him thank them for finding him but I hadn't the heart to do so, tomorrow morning if he were well enough, would be soon enough.

Eventually, it was only my nephew and I left, even Balin having returned to his own house. As before, the door was thrown open as I approached, my sister and nephew – my _eldest_ nephew, for I still blessedly had two – waiting on the threshold. Their face remained unchanged as I drew closer so I tugged down one covering, just slightly to reveal my tiny companion's head. Fili gave a most undignified squeal and was out of the door before I could tell him to stay where it was dry.

"Fili…" I admonished though without a trace of ire, bending to grab him up as well and carrying them both back to their mother. He squirmed in my grasp, fussing over his brother and pulling layers closer to him. Kili, as far as I could tell, barely moved, instead choosing to keep his face pressed against my neck, though he did reach one hand out for his brother's. I approached Dís with a weary smile that quickly turned to concern as I drew nearer – she looked fit to faint! Seeing my concern, she smiled tremulously back at me, shaking her head and reaching out her hands to take her baby from my arms. As she took him, I began to draw back, half-considering taking the opportunity to scold his older brother. The child had bare feet for goodness sake! Was he entirely mad?

Kili had barely left my arms when I felt my sister's hand on the back of my neck, drawing me back towards her, the boys squeezed in between us. I did have the forethought to close the door with my foot but beyond that, there was very little in my mind beyond my sister and her sons and the very thought that for a long time tonight, we had thought Fili, like myself, no longer had a baby brother. There would be reprimands and consequences – many of them in fact – in the morning when we had all had time to recover but for now, Aule had been good to us.

* * *

It was nearing dawn when at last my sister and I sat down. She had given both boys warm baths and I had set the fire in their bedroom before she settled them in – together, for they would not be parted – and got them to drift off. There had been tears from both of them, as well as my sister, to be home and safe and together but eventually their exhaustion had overcome them. I sat now by the hearth, drifting in and out of sleep, each time waking with a start and an ice-cold fear that our child was still out there. Each time, my sister would greet me with the same reassurance – '_he is safe, he is home. Do not worry'_ – and I would stay awake listening to her softly advising me to go to bed. I had at least removed my drenched clothing, donning nightshirt and hose before collapsing into the chair in which I now sat.

"I do believe you shall have a fever," came my sister's voice, sounding distant and high above me. I could not help but shy away as she placed her seemingly cold hand upon my forehead, I did not have the energy to feel disgruntled as I felt her press a kiss into my hair. Let the woman fuss, she must have felt such anguish tonight I could not begrudge her.

"Kili too," I rasped eventually, unsure how much time had passed since she last spoke. As we had been walking, I had felt how hot my nephew's head was compared to his icy limbs – he may have been home but I could not say with any confidence that he was 'safe'. I would visit Oin in his little apothecary in the morning, I told my sister so.

She 'mmed' somewhere nearby and suddenly I felt a warm mug being pressed into my hands. Opening my eyes I peered dubiously into its depths, sniffing it cautiously.

"Drink, it will help," Dís told me sternly, arms folded. I began to protest but the steam rising from my mug was beginning to cause all manner of unfortunate reactions – I sneezed instead. Then coughed, quite ferociously. And still my sister would not be moved, she remained watching only moving to take the drink from my hands when in my outburst I near covered myself in it.

I sat back finally, exhausted, my head pounding. If_ I_ could be reduced to this so quickly then I pitied my poor nephew greatly for he would surely suffer far worse than me.

"Thorin, drink." My sister repeated more gently, kneeling at my side. Whatever turmoil I had experienced this night was nothing compared with her own suffering. Tomorrow her son would need her but for now he slept soundly and my dearest sister sought to take care of me. _Me_ of all people. Like so many of our quarrels, I knew when to relinquish the field. I nodded wearily; I hadn't the energy to fight back as I normally might have.

The warm liquid did, I admit, feel good against my aching throat. When I had done, I set my head back against the chair and deciding to bed there for what was left of the night. Dís would of course have none of it. Without so much as a '_by your leave, Brother'_, she began pulling on my arm, dragging me from my seat. I attempted to growl but, between my throat and bone-weariness, I fear it may have come out as more of a whine.

"This is an unsavoury habit, Sister," I informed her hoarsely as she heaved my arm about her shoulders and began to guide me to my rooms. We did not often quarrel (though when we do so properly I have been informed it is a somewhat fearsome sight), but when we did it seemed increasingly common that I should be either too weary or unwell to stay at it for long.

She made no reply though I thought I saw her beard twitch slightly. Slowly, we made our way down the darkened passages to our sleeping chambers and I allowed her to pause as we came to the nursery. She had left the door ajar so that we might hear if one of her sons awoke and to stop the air from becoming too sweltering for them. She looked a question at me and I nodded, leaning heavily against the doorpost as she shrugged my arm off and crossed to the bed.

I watched Dís feel Kili's forehead though even from where I was I could see the flush in his cheeks, and she glanced back at me sadly. Tucking them in closer, her hands lingered over their heads – one golden like his father's, the other darker than even my own – brushing stray hairs from their faces and such a haunted, lost look on her face that I felt my chest constrict once more.

"Dís," I called, as loudly as I dared. She turned, looking almost surprised to see me, giving them one last look before returning to my side.

For the first time in the better part of a decade – since Kili was in swaddling clothes – my sister stayed in my chamber that night. We did not speak of missing dwarflings, or of another little boy we had both known many years before who, like Kili, had a startling propensity for getting lost, in fact we spoke very little at all. As I felt myself slipping further into sleep, I reiterated my promise to fetch a healer to Kili.

"I'll send Fili in the morning. Kili is well enough for now," she said, not quite stroking my head as she had her sons but very close to it. It felt…soothing to be taken care of so.

"_I _will go."

Beside me, Dís tutted.

* * *

_**A/N: Just want to say, I hope I did justice to the emotions in this piece. **__**I'd love to hear what you think! T.**_


	3. New Hope - Thorin

The infant was small – smaller than he had any business being really – but the nurse assured me he was sturdy enough. He had entered the world as all great dwarves were expected to, with a hearty battle cry that foretold of great victories to come, and had not caused his mother or nurse unnecessary alarm. And it was a boy, thankfully, though there had never really been much doubt. Women are born so rarely to our race that, were it not for my need for a succession, a girl might have been more welcome.

I studied the little face, delicate features soft in sleep and found myself wondering absently what colour eyes lay behind his lids. It was of little consequence of course but still…

"Well, Brother?"

I turned to the other inhabitants of the room, turning my back on my new heir – for he was, I had no doubt of it. If he proved suitable this child would succeed me as leader of my people, I was quite resolved that I was unsuited for marriage and all dwarf-maidens I met appeared to concur. Strange…my heir.

My sister, thankfully redressed since her ordeal, sat wearily in her bed, her hair and beard hanging loose. Beside her sat my heir's father, both of them anxiously awaiting my judgment.

"It is too soon to tell," I told them, glancing back at the sleeping babe. "Is he strong?" I asked, wandering to where refreshments had been laid upon a sideboard and pouring light wine into silver goblets.

"Very," Fitalí assured me quickly, nervously, his hand on my sister's shoulder. "He clasped my finger so tightly I thought I should have to leave it with him!"

I pursed my lips at his feeble attempt at a joke. Where matters of succession were concerned, neither he nor his humour were particularly welcome to me. "Dís?"

My sister hesitated, glancing at her husband's crestfallen face. "He is strong, Thorin, very strong." She assured me, though her eyebrows were knit disapprovingly.

I glanced into the cot once more, watching the rise and fall of his tiny chest and wondering how anything so small could hold even the slightest strength. "Very strong, are you?" I asked quietly, barely resisting the urge to test his father's claims with my own hand. "That is well."

Retreating, I handed wine to both of his parents and took up my own. "He'll do," I announced, raising my cup to my sister. They both seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. My sister nodded at me once, beaming proudly and dashing tears from her face. Wordlessly I offered her my handkerchief but it was Fitalí who took it from me.

"He'll more than _do_, my love," he murmured, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears. I resisted telling him that it was only by _his_ blood that there had ever been any doubt; the child seemed healthy enough and Dís seemed pleased, I would not have ruined her most important of days by quarrelling with her husband. I refilled my cup.

"What shall you name him?"

They both looked slightly stunned, as though they had expected me to take that honour from them. I could not fathom why; he was their son, and would remain so regardless of any reservations _I_ had so why should I name him? My only hope was that they named him something sensible and not so extravagant as his father's name, what Fitalí's parents had been thinking I could not guess. Two syllables was _plenty_ for a woman, and just right for a man. Whoever heard of giving a child a name so long as _Fitalí_? It was unheard of in any dwarf – Firebeard or Blacklock – that I had ever encountered, in a Longbeard it would be downright obscene.

"We…had thought of Fíli," Dís told me slowly, though there was a shadow of her usual defiance in her voice as though she dared me to object.

I raised my brows in surprise. I had been certain I would have to defend the poor mite from his father's ridiculous names but apparently the fellow had shown some sense. That, or my sister had beaten him down.

"Fíli?" I repeated thoughtfully. Fíli, son of Fitalí. He would never be known as such, of course, not when he could instead be known as Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of _Thrain_, but it seemed necessary to at least test the name. If he proved wanting somehow, or if his father ever had occasion to distinguish himself as a warrior, then he may yet return to the name.

"It is… dignified, in its way, don't you think?" My brother-in-law's hesitancy both pleased and annoyed me.

I watched them both, anxiety written across their faces once more before gazing down appraisingly at the child. "Fíli…" I repeated again, letting the name fill my mind as I looked at him. "It is," I admitted eventually, picturing the relief upon their faces, "I rather like it." I blinked wondering what had possessed me to say such a thing and what I could say to recover from such a slip, "Well, it is as good a name as any other. It will suit him well."

When I turned, my sister's lips were turned up in a smirk as she looked at me, while her husband grinned proudly. I wished I could begrudge him it – Mahal knew I begrudged him a good deal of other things – but I could not. "I shall inform our kin," I told them, suddenly feeling woefully out of place here with them and their newborn son. Their smiles faltered and my sister grasped my hand as I passed the bed, pulling me down beside her. "He is a fine child, Sister," I assured her, allowing myself to run one hand across her unkempt head, "You should be very proud…I am very pleased with him."

She released me, her eyes shining and I stood once more. Making for the door, I nodded once at Fitalí who returned it, still looking mildly concerned. Once outside, I stood for a moment, closing my eyes and allowing images of my new successor to flood my mind. He looked far more like his father than his mother, which was unfortunate but could not be helped and I hoped for his sake he would grow into his nose though his father still had not managed it. His hair was golden, what little he had of it, which again made him more his father's son than anyone else's but then our brother had always had defiantly yellow hair as well; all the same if he were going to take after his father in looks, I thought he might at least have taken after _us _in colouring.

"Thorin?"

I opened my eyes, startled and annoyed that anyone should be down here when it was well known my sister was laid in.

"You are _pale_, laddie."

I scowled fiercely at my cousin's words.

"Is Lady Dís quite well? Is the child?"

Though I did not say so, I was touched at his obvious concern. Sighing, I lead Balin away from my sister's chamber so as not to disturb them. "My sister is well," I told him, not bothering to hide the relief I felt at those words, "and the child is sleeping soundly."

"And will he do?"

"Yes," I could feel a grin tugging at my lips, "Yes, he will do very well. Very well indeed."

"And his father?" Balin inquired knowingly.

"Fitalí too," I agreed reluctantly. For the sake of my heir, I would have to put aside my reservations regarding his father; we would never be rid of him now. Not that my sister would have been parted from him anyway.

"His name?"

"Fíli."

Balin nodded slowly, no doubt already thinking of his scrolls and history tomes. "I have not heard of it before," he began, "but then all great names must come from _someone_. Shall I send word to Dain?"

I wondered whether my cousin would be relieved or disappointed to be superseded as my heir. I imagined he would likely be relieved for he was happy, I knew, settled as he was in the Iron Hills. What cared he for our fallen kingdom or for its kingship? I felt a swell of bitterness as I thought of the celebrations and glad tidings in my Grandfather's halls had we still been in Erebor – the new prince, a sign from Mahal that Durin's line would never fail and that the crown of my forefathers would ever be passed from generation to generation unbroken and unchallenged. Instead, we would send a few pitiful envoys to bear the news to Dain in the East and drink the child's health from beautifully carved but worthless cups. He would be swaddled in cloth and be bedded in hot woollen blankets not the soft, lavish satins into which his mother had been born. No songs would be sung by our kin over the mountains for this new heir of Durin, born above ground as if he were no better than the lost wretches of men who ventured forth from ruined Tharbad to trade with us.

The pride I had taken in him, the relief that our line continued seemed foolish now. I had thought to take to my halls this evening, to drink his health with our people but…far better we drink my cousin's swift demise and my assuming his place as Lord of the Iron Hills. Dain's land held no appeal for me – why should it when my rightful place was in Erebor? – but his life was charmed, his halls plentiful. My sister's child would grow stronger and taller in Dain's territory than here, scratching a living from long-abandoned mines and trading at a loss with the ruthless Dunlendings or our so-called kin from across the River Luin.

I did not wish death upon Dain, like my sister and myself, he had lost much in his life and when his father – Nain, my own father's cousin – had fallen at the gates of Moria, summoned thither by his loyalty to Thror, there came a divide between us that could not be mended. He would not swear his allegiance to me nor to my descendants though he would honour them as his kin and we were, until today, each other's heirs (I, having played no part in raising his kingdom would lay no claims to his seat ere his death). Yet he and Nain had accepted with grace those who had fled to them from Erebor; as his kin, we would be welcomed there as Lords of Durin's line but ever be inferior to the Lords of the Iron Hills who had kept their kingdom where we had not. I could not allow those who had loyally followed Grandfather to the West to fall so far as to go to Dain as beggars at his door; I was certain that my sister, truly her father's daughter, would never lower herself to do so either.

Far better Dain's reign end and his lands pass to me that we might finally gain back our honour as descendants of the greatest of the Seven Fathers. Alas, Dain had ever proven himself both as enduring and as solid as the mountain under which he had been born, I feared he would not relinquish his dominion until he had heirs of his own and I had long since joined our ancestors in Aulë's Halls.

"Thorin?" Balin's voice, slightly impatient, once more interrupted my thoughts, "Shall I send word to Dain?"

"Of course."

As if there had ever been any doubt that Dain would need to be informed of this new arrival. Beside me, Balin paused a moment before clapping me on the shoulder and departing. Slowly, I followed him out, stopping at my own chambers to don what splendored clothing I could. Thus having made my presentable, I made for our meeting halls where I knew several of our closest neighbours were awaiting news of my sister and her child. Even so, on entering the room I was surprised to see so many of our people gathered. Perhaps it was because my sister was who she was and so well loved, or perhaps it was because one family had so recently lost a child but every one of them looked up anxiously as I entered.

Despite my darker thoughts, I felt pride and not a small amount of happiness swelling within me as I prepared to announce the birth of my heir. I took up my place – for my father's people had not been so wandering and uncivilised that we had not been able to construct a throne room, even if it did more often serve as a market hall – and drew myself up to my fullest height. A hush fell over the room and it was not arrogance that led me to believe I saw awe on several faces.

"I HAVE A SON!"

Like the rest of my people, I turned outraged eyes upon the newcomer. With unseemly excitement, my brother-in-law threw himself into the throng of his kinfolks, clapping shoulders and embracing them, completely oblivious to the unseemliness of his display not to mention the outright insult he was causing both my esteemed kin and me. I waited, summoning all the restraint of my forbearers to keep myself from throttling him. Over the heads of my sister's in-laws, I shared dark looks with several of my counsellors, gritting my teeth as Dwalin rubbed his hand across his jaw attempting to disguise his grin.

Traitor.

He was usually the first to condemn Fitalí's behaviour, particularly where my sister was concerned – Fitalí was not courtly enough, did not show sufficient prowess with weaponry, cared too little for lore and metal craft and too much for artistry and ill thought out feats of courage. To be frank, I never saw Dwalin so happy as when my hapless brother-in-law unintentionally (for he wouldst ne'er dare to do so deliberately) undermined me – in trivial matters of course – he found it entirely too amusing to see this…vagabond flout my authority. I cleared my throat. Loudly.

The effect was instantaneous. From amidst the sea of red and yellow heads, my sister's husband turned to me, clearly attempting to regain some control over his emotions. Seeing me standing ready to address my court his face paled. He glanced around the room, no doubt taking in the assembled dignitaries and the furious expressions on their faces – even Dwalin had managed his usual scowl – before turning back to me, dark eyes widening.

"Forgive me, Thorin," he muttered, an intense blush creeping up his face as he disentangled himself from his friends. "I did not think."

A constant failing in him.

I inclined my head slightly, accepting his apology even if he had still addressed me by name rather than title, as he ought to have done. He stood awkwardly to one side as I took up my place once more and announced my heir. He would be presented to the court before long but for now he and his mother slept. I spoke of how the arrival of the next heir heralded a change of fortunes for us all, foretold a life of prosperity and happiness and marked this glorious day as the first of many. They listened with rapt attention, the struggling remnants of a proud race who now clung on to what false reassurances they were given. It would be many years before our township here would truly resemble a kingdom of old but as I spoke, I found myself half believing it.

Erebor was our home, it was my rightful place; but why should we not prosper here as Fitalí's ancestors had done in the first age? The time would come to reclaim Erebor as we had reclaimed this place but I felt in my heart that it would not be me who sat upon its throne, if I were even present at its taking. As my father had before me, so to would I lay the foundations of a great nation here in the north of Ered Luin and build a life for my people and for my sister's descendants. Let Dain keep his iron and from it forge crude weaponry with which to defend his people from the Easterlings who dwelt across the mountains; here we would craft objects of such beauty as was only ever seen in Erebor. We would travel far to the kingdoms of men to sell our wares and bring back great collections of treasure. Here would we build a new realm upon the ruins of Nogrod and Belegost; our kin that fled to Dain would leave him now to join us here, in Thorin's Halls where ruled the eldest son of the eldest sons – Durin's true line.

I paused, for I had spoken much of my thoughts aloud, feeling a familiar but long-forgotten pride swell in me such as I had not felt since fleeing Erebor so many years ago. I sought my cousins' eyes across the room and knew they felt it too – a new heir, the dawning of a new era. I briefly sought Fitalí but it seemed he had, at some point, slipped away, presumably back to his wife and child. No matter. He was Úri's folk – a merchant – he had never seen Thror's hall nor gazed in wonder upon the Arkenstone; promises of a return to Erebor and of Durin's line were of little consequence to him. Erebor was lost – those among us that could recall it at all would likely never see its halls again. But, our people were not the first to be forced from their home by war or famine, we made new homes where we could and we _endured_.

From deep within my family's halls and echoing up the passages, the newborn's cries rent the air. Hale and hearty and full of a life that had been all but missing from my sister and our kin since the deaths of so many at Azanulbizar. With this new heir, my people had hope once more.

This new heir, my _sister's child_, would see in the centuries that I would not and under his leadership, _our_ people would endure.

* * *

I paused outside her door, hearing the murmuring voices of my sister and her husband. In the hall, both our peoples drank deeply, some already composing short verses that narrated my sister-son's birth. When my sister was strong enough to leave her chambers there would be feasting; already I knew hunting parties and merchants were on their way to Tharbad to gather what they could for supplies.

For now, I brought wine and food to sustain her until morning. I wondered whether or not I should knock, whether my doing so would disturb the infant, which I was loathe to do after my sister's ordeal. In the end I did knock very gently, disturbing their quiet conversation. Swift footfalls signalled my brother-in-law's presence at the door before it was opened very slightly to reveal him looking almost shocked to see me. Who else he imagined would dare to disturb Dís' rest was quite beyond me.

"Thorin," he greeted breathlessly, swinging the door open to allow me entry, "My friend, we had not expected to see you."

I did not reply, entering and placing my tray upon the sideboard once more. I poured wine for them once more, darker and more potent this time, and handed both cups to my brother-in-law as he edged past me back to his wife. Upon the bed sat my sister, still beautifully dishevelled but now cradling the child to her bared breast. Raising her eyes to mine, she smiled wearily.

"We had not expected to see you, Brother," she informed me, echoing her husband's words, "We thought for certain that we would all be banished from your sights forever."

"And why, may I ask, would you think that?"

She smiled wider, craning her head to see her husband. Fitalí blushed fiercely at her beleaguering, staring determinedly at his infant son's face.

"I daresay we shall overcome the humiliation…given time," I informed her wryly, fighting my own grin. Retying her nightgown, Dís handed the child to his father before reaching out one hand to me. I took it, settling against the post at the foot of her bed and watching her intently.

"I am well, Brother," she murmured, answering my unasked question.

"And you have a son," I commented, squeezing her hand gently.

From his father's arms, the child gave a slight whine and squirmed a little before settling once more. I turned my eyes back to my sister, hearing her soft laughter – I had hardly realised I had looked away.

"And you a nephew."

I felt a sudden warmth flood my chest at her words. This time, I was quite certain the pride I took in that thought had little to nothing to do with successions or kingdoms.

"What colour are his eyes?"

I cursed my own lack of restraint – surely, I could have thought of a more intelligent response? Still, the question had been somewhat on my mind since I had first laid eyes upon him sleeping in his cot.

"Here," Fitalí said, barely even attempting to hide his smirk, "See for yourself."

I barely had time to protest before the tiny bundle of blankets and squirming limbs was thrust into my arms. I confess, I froze. Ridiculous response, I had held many children before – in our days of wandering there had always been _someone's_ child burden to be carried or my sister to be shared between my brother and I – but this felt so very different, so unlike those times and not simply because _this_ child was so much smaller than those others had been. His parents exchanged amused glances, my sister leaning forwards to adjust my hold with an exasperated, _"Thorin…_"

I looked down.

Blue. From within my tiny companion's face I saw my sister's eyes – my late brother's eyes – staring back at me.

I glanced back at his parents, feeling the slightest of smiles tugging at my lips. Dís had shifted to lie against her husband's chest, eyes closed and breathing steadily. As I watched, Fitalí leant down and pressed a kiss into her hair, a look of such complete adoration that I was almost angry with myself for disapproving of their union. It was nigh on scandalous to display such open affection before his lady's family – particularly given our differing ranks – but it was difficult to feel anything other than happiness for my younger sister on such a day as this. Looking up, he caught my gaze and coloured once more – for one whose ancestors were brave to the point of foolishness, he displayed a shocking, if rather amusing, tendency towards embarrassment where I was concerned.

"She is exhausted," he commented quietly, clearly uncomfortable with our silence. I was hardly faring any better; it was rare that we were forced to spend time together without my sister's calming presence.

"She is."

"Perhaps I ought to…" he began vaguely, gesturing at my happily gurgling nephew. Extricating himself from my sister, he lifted the infant from my arms and turned towards the cot. Relieved of such a fragile burden, I allowed myself to relax a little against the bedpost once more. As Fitalí lifted the child, it began to whine as though sensing he was about to be set down away from us.

"None of that," Fitalí chided softly, hushing him, "Your Mama is sleeping." As if understanding his words, the child quieted almost immediately. I wondered whether this obedience would last for it certainly had not in his mother. "Let us hope he remains so biddable." Fitalí returned to the bed, resuming his seat and hesitantly turning to me. "Join me?" He asked mildly, offering me my sister's untouched wine.

I took it, sipping absently. "What shall we drink to?"

"To Fíli, of course," he smiled, though there was something tight about it as he added, "To _your_ heir."

We knocked our goblets together, very quietly, neither of us looking at the other. I had known since Erebor fell – certainly since Thrain's death - that I would not marry and therefore any heir I had would be of my sister and her husband's line but I do not think it had struck me until that point how very harsh that must have felt to Fitalí. Fitalí who was not of Durin's line, whose blood was considered by so many – myself included – so inferior to my own and whose son would lead my people when I was gone, never having been known as his father's son.

It was improper – I ought to have accepted his tribute and taken my leave – but whether by the wine's influence or simply by my sister's having beaten me down after all this time, I suddenly felt uncommonly warm towards him, fool though he was. He was young – younger even than Dís though only slightly – and still filled with the sort of childish self-possession and disregard for our heritage that my brother had always shown. Let him be bookish and foolishly kind-hearted instead of battle-scarred and proud, what cared I so long as he treated Dís and my heir well? He would drink to my heir as though he himself had no claim to him simply out of love and respect for my sister and myself.

"Fitalí," I murmured, watching him closely. He turned troubled dark eyes to me that widened as I charged my cup once more, gesturing for him to do the same. "To _your_ son…Brother."

* * *

** A/N: Look! I wrote a story that wasn't sad! Wasn't exactly happy either...but the important thing is no one died or got lost or hurt or anything really. Savouring the moment...**

**Thoughts would be much appreciated, as always. By the way, I do intend to flesh out their father a bit later, he won't always be such a wet blanket I swear.**


	4. Passing - Thorin

_** Not mine, never will be. Fitali is technically mine.**_

**A/N: So I've been working on a few WIPs recently in between the RL work but this one was pretty much written in full in 2 sittings (a rarity for me). I really will be trying to stop writing Thorin's POV soon but everything I come up with atm seems to only make sense from his POV. Anyway, enjoy (kind of...it's not a happy piece)**

* * *

Even as Dwalin approached me, I knew what he would say. The sorrow in my cousin's eyes near made my knees buckle.

"Take me to him?"

Dwalin nodded shortly, reaching out a hand to grasp my shoulder. That hand moved to my elbow as he guided me to where his elder brother and several others were kneeling on the frigid earth.

"Balin, does he breathe?" I knelt beside the prone body, not daring to touch lest I caused any more pain.

"He needs a healer, Thorin," Balin advised gently, one hand upon my shoulder.

I nodded (though the advice was hardly necessary), trailing my eyes briefly along my brother-in-law's shuddering body. Beyond him, I watched impassively as Dwalin heaved his axe overhead and brought it down upon the neck of Fitalí 's last adversary who lay just as still, bloodied and shivering as he did. The great beast's last whimper was cut off with a dull thud, its bloodied jaws going slack.

Fitalí stirred beside me, a tortured whimper escaping him. Hesitantly, I laid my fur atop him and placed one hand upon his face, jumping back in shock as he immediately turned unfocused eyes upon me.

"Thorin?"

I had no words. Every stirring phrase with which I reassured my people at such times flew from my mind in the wake of my own name, uttered so quietly, so hopefully it was as though my presence at his side was all he could have hoped for in such a moment. I watched as his swimming eyes strained to focus on my face, his lips forming words though no further sound was forthcoming.

"I am here, 'Talí ," I murmured eventually finding my voice, strained as it was. Clearing my throat, I rallied. "I am with you."

The smallest of smiles – barely a shadow of his usual grin – found its way across his face and his eyes drifted shut. My heart seized and I found myself calling his name, once, twice, three times before they opened once more.

"Were you afraid?" he asked me haltingly, grimacing as he managed to bring one hand to mine where it lay against his face.

I could not bring myself to lie to him, not now when every word we said could be his last. I did not spare my cousins so much as a glance, though I could feel their eyes upon us. "Of course I was," I nodded, my throat tight.

"I wasn't," he quipped immediately, attempting to grin at me.

"That is because you are a fool," I informed him, forcing myself to smile back at him even as his hand clenched around my own.

"I think you may be right," he gasped eventually, once the agony subsided again.

I shrugged slightly, my jaw beginning to ache. "I think so too."

All around, I could hear the guttural cries of those whose life's blood now stained the snow around us and the anguished wails from those whose charges had already passed on to Aüle's Halls. I glanced up to see several whom I did not know by name embracing their fallen kin, I could imagine the lies they would tell each other, the sweet nothings they would whisper to one another to ease their passing. Not a single death had been in vain here today; our people in Ered Luin and those further south – even those in the Shire – would sleep safe in their beds, blissfully unaware of the carnage that would have befallen them had it not been for those warriors who had fought beside me today. What was left of the White Wolves of the north would slink back into the frigid wasteland whence they came and would not dare cross our borders again.

"Thorin?"

"Mm?" I wondered, would it soothe him to know his wife and children were safe from these fiends? Or would my mentioning them only serve to cause him agony of a different kind? I could not bring myself to offer him empty platitudes – could not think of any to offer anyway – but to be at his side and silent was excruciating.

He paused a moment and I glanced down in concern. His face was openly distressed as he shifted slightly to see me better, gasping in pain as he did so. "You _will_ take me home?" he asked eventually, dark eyes troubled.

"Of course," I agreed softly, "Stay still now."

"No, Thorin," he bit out almost angrily, no longer looking at me "Take _me home_?"

I frowned.

"To _Dís_," he elaborated.

"_Yes_, of cour – " I broke off, gazing around, for the first time that day seeing what he saw. So many dead. A fraction of those we had lost before in other battles, but he was not to know that. "Of _course_, I shall return you to Dís."

I wished I could bring myself to say more, that we would burn our enemy but return our own to the earth as we had always done. If – and I refused to think of it as anything other than a _possibility_ – Fitalí died there with me, never having seen his wife or his beloved boys again, he would be returned to them that they could grieve properly, not thrown atop a pyre and burnt along with nameless corpses of our other losses.

He watched me for a moment, seeming to weigh the truth of my statement before nodding and attempting some ill-advised twisting about once more.

"Lie still, I say!"

He stilled immediately, though whether from my command or the pain that movement caused him I did not know. It was not long before he spoke again, lying obediently still but his dark gaze upon me.

"Thorin?"

"_Yes_, what is it?" I felt a wave of regret wash over me, the words having come out far harsher than I had intended them. I closed my eyes, turning back to him from where I had been seeking signs of imminent aid. "My apologies," I muttered softly, "what is it you would say?"

Again, his mouth quirked into the softest of smiles, his dark eyes roving across my face. "It does not hurt," he whispered eventually, "Thorin, _brother, _it does not pain me."

For a moment, I could only stare at him disbelievingly. It was he who was laying wounded at my feet and yet he sought to comfort _me_. I had never heard such falsehoods in all my life. Still, he had spoken with such conviction, his eyes _willing _me to allow it that I found I _could_ _not_ call him out. I nodded shortly.

"You will tell Dís that?"

"No," I croaked with as much sternness as I could muster, "_You_ shall tell Dís that."

He smiled briefly before his hand tightened on mine again. "It does not hurt," he repeated breathlessly, eyes firmly closed.

"I know," I assured him, wiping a few errant tears from his cheeks with my thumb.

Each laboured breath disturbed matted strands of copper hair that lay across his bloodied face. This was no warrior. Brave beyond measure certainly, and fierce – I could not have asked for a more loyal friend – but this was an artist, a craftsman. He did not glory in battle, and I had been too blinded by my own pride to see it. He had neither the patience nor the solemnity to sit on my counsel – his rare appearances there had been a test in forbearance for us all – but his training these past years had been more an indulgence – a distraction – than anything else.

"I'm sorry."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, startled from my thoughts by his quiet apology.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," he repeated, "I did so want…I swore I would protect you all."

'_You all'._ I wanted to brush his words aside as delirious nonsense – protect Dís and their boys, certainly, but _me_ ? – but his eyes were clear. "The fight is won, and all is well," I assured him eventually; it was not _quite _an untruth, "You have kept your word."

He made a noncommittal noise in his throat – or perhaps it was a stifled moan, I couldn't be sure – before saying, "_This _time."

"And you will do so again the next," I said with an air of finality, "If Dís ever lets you out again."

"You see now?" Dwalin interrupted gruffly, suddenly crouching beside Fitalí 's other side and placing one hand on his uninjured shoulder, "Help is at hand."

I looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over me as Oin and several others appeared on the hill bearing a stretcher between them. Though it pained me to do so, I stood back from them with Dwalin as they set to work preserving what life was left in my fallen brother-in-law. As they lifted him the sharp tang of dwarfish blood filled my senses, staining the snow covered earth crimson and filling my nostrils, the stench so strong I could near taste it and made all the worse for knowing to whom it belonged.

"Will you go?" I asked Dwalin quietly as they prepared to bear Fitalí home.

"No," he shook his head, turning to look at me at last, "There are things I would do here."

"You go on now," said Balin, turning from Fitalí to place hands upon my shoulders; his grip, even though my mail, was almost painful, "Thorin, you promised the laddie."

I began to shake my head. Whatever pain it caused me, my place was here. I felt my jaw clench. I _ought _to have stayed and granted honour to those we had lost, given my blessings over their broken bodies that they might find peace in Aüle's Halls and overseen the disposal of the foul creatures that had brought this sorrow upon my people but I found I could not, in good conscience, abandon my brother-in-law to endure his pain alone.

I sighed, gripping one of Balin's forearms tightly before brushing his hands aside and taking up my position at Fitalí 's side. Heedless of his healer's directions to be still, I was unsurprised as his eyes immediately sought my own, his fingers briefly touching my sleeve.

"My liege…"

* * *

The night had drawn in, its chill reaching us even in the deepest of our halls despite the fire blazing in the hearths. Oin had insisted upon treating my wounds himself though they were few and insignificant, whilst Fitalí had been born into his chambers and settled there before my sister was fetched from the nursery where she had been keeping watch over her little ones. I took the time to look in on them myself ere I re-joined their parents.

"Are the White Wolves gone, Uncle?" Fíli had asked timidly, arms wound protectively around his sleeping brother.

"Yes," I assured him wearily, "You are quite safe."

I had made to leave, my hand already upon the door knob before his voice sounded again.

"Uncle," he had begun, extricating himself from his brother and slipping from the bed to come to me, "Are you all right?"

"I am well enough," I said after a pause, wondering what he had been told of the day's events. Dropping to one knee in front of him, I took his chilled hands in mine. "And you?"

He took several tremulous breaths before saying quietly, "The healers came for Mama. And Da did not come to wish us goodnight as he swore he would," he peered at me from beneath sleep mussed hair, "He did come back, didn't he?"

"Of course," I nodded, feeling my throat constrict. "But, you must understand, Fíli , he is – "

A shadow fell across his face from behind me and I turned to find Balin standing over us, his face terribly grave.

"Lady Dís has sent for them," he said gently, his gaze barely settling upon either of my sister-sons.

Though I had known from the moment I set eyes upon Fitalí on the battlefield that this time would come, I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach at my cousins words. Squeezing Fíli 's hands once, I stood and gently pushed him aside as I fetched his brother. He woke as I lifted him, though barely, his father's eyes blinking at me heavily before he buried his face deep into my shoulder. Breathing deeply, I nodded at Balin and he accompanied us to my brother-in-law's chambers before excusing himself with a sad look towards the lot of us.

With a knock, I ushered Fíli inside and placed Kíli into his mother's outstretched arms before taking my seat at the side of the room. Strictly speaking, I, like Balin, oughtn't to have been present at all – having no familial ties to Fitalí except through my sister – but I had long since come to terms with the fact that the bumbling, jester of a dwarf laying in the bed had become as dear to me as my own kin. I did not intend to leave him to suffer alone as I had my own brother.

As he had with me, Fitalí kept a weary smile in place for his wife and sons' sakes, only faltering when Kíli 's head and hands landed with a soft thump upon his wounded chest. Alarmed, I leant across him and hoisted Kíli up in one arm, settling him upon my lap where he could do no further harm. He whined and struggled for all of a few seconds until his father raised his uninjured hand to chuck under his baby's chin. Giggling, Kíli squirmed but grabbed hold of his father's fingers and stuck them in his mouth, gnawing on them contentedly. Had it not been for the tremulous laugh Fitalí emitted as Kíli did so I would have been inclined to remove them; as it was, his father watched him with such adoration I could scarce look at him. Briefly, his eyes flicked to mine, his smile faltering slightly, for his sake, I summoned the barest of smiles to my own face though it fell from my lips the moment Fitalí turned away from me. Turning back to Fíli and my sister, he bade his elder son take his other hand.

Our traditions dictate that none but those for whom a blessing is intended should know its content – my own father's blessings to myself and my brother had ever been a source of great curiosity to Dís until she too had received one (though it had been from myself and not Thrain) – and so I tried my best to ignore my brother-in-law's softly spoken words to his son (though it was intended for both, Fíli would likely be the only one to recall his father's words). From what I heard of it, it satisfied the formalities of the tradition as my own father's had but, whether owing to his son's young age, it was significantly softer and more tender than would generally be considered appropriate for such a formal custom. After a time, I heard my heir's hesitantly murmured "Thank you, Da". It was, strictly speaking, somewhat obscene that he should answer such an intrinsic rite of our culture in anything other than Khuzdul but given that the blessing would not usually be given until he came of age, I was certain it could be forgiven.

"I _think_ it is long past your bedtime," Fitalí murmured eventually, his own eyes falling shut momentarily much to my sister's (and my own) concern.

I stood at once, waiting whilst he bade Kíli a somewhat tearful good night before lifting my nephew again and rounding the bed to fetch Fíli too. He resisted of course and, if there had been any doubt as to whether he understood the direness of the situation, they were eliminated by the way he ever so carefully climbed up his father's bedside to wrap his little arms about Fitalí's neck. I hesitated, mindful of how quickly Fitalí's strength was failing now but unwilling to put an end to so tender a moment between my sister's husband and their small son.

"I shall…" I broke off and cleared my throat, "I shall wait for him outside."

Standing in the frigid hallway with my youngest nephew, I felt my eyes burning briefly. Unable to dash the moisture from them with either hand, I brushed my face against my tiny companion's baby soft hair, making him giggle and twist in my grasp. Leaning back to observe him, I found him blinking back at me with his father's wide, dark eyes. My sister had been scarcely older than him when our mother had passed; he would have no memory whatsoever of the man lying in the room we had just left. As that thought struck me, the door behind me opened and Dís ushered Fíli out, barely glancing at Kíli or me before ducking back into the room to her husband.

"Come, you ought to be in bed," I told my nephews a tad gruffer than I had intended.

To my concern, Fíli did not protest but simply rubbed at his eyes before stretching up his arms to me. Moved, for I had seldom indulged in carrying either of them – Fíli in particular – I began to reach out for him but he stepped out of my reach ere I could lift him.

"Wan' Kíli," he said tentatively, not looking at me.

"Fíli – " I began only to be interrupted.

"I _want_ Kíli!"

On any other occasion, I might have been exasperated, angered even, by his impudence particularly as it was accompanied by a defiant stomp of his bare little foot, but as it was the situation was so pitiful, Fíli's face so distraught, I could bear to neither deny him his brother nor scold him. Bending down, I lowered Kíli into his elder brother's arms, holding him until I was certain Fíli had him securely. The moment he had him, Fíli's face disappeared into his brother's hair, his arms tightening around Kíli's small body until the tot emitted a high-pitched whimper. His grip loosened immediately, tear-filled eyes going wide at having hurt his baby brother.

"Come," I repeated, hesitating briefly before running one hand down his golden hair and herding him back to their bedroom.

When I returned to my sister and her husband Dís had moved from her seat on the side of the bed to curl around Fitalí's good side, his head resting on her collarbone and her hand in his hair. For a moment I froze, taking in his closed eyes and pallor but my sister gestured me in, shaking her head very slightly. I took up her vacated seat, summoning a tight smile as his eyes opened slightly as I sat down.

"Back again?"

"Would you rather I left you alone with Dís?" I asked in perfect earnest, wondering if they had only wanted me there as long as the children were there.

Fitalí smiled though it was Dís who answered for them both.

"No, stay, Brother," she said, her hand carding through her husband's silk-like hair, so different from our own. "Stay with us – please."

Casting her a soft glance, I nodded, relaxing slightly and taking a grip of Fitalí's free hand. We sat in silence for some time then, Dís and I listening to Fitalí's harsh breaths, both of us tensing whenever his breaths seemed to become too slow. Finally, he seemed to fall asleep, even the involuntary shudders beginning to even out and I had just resigned myself to the thought that he most likely would not wake when he murmured something unintelligible under his breath.

"What do you…make of Fíli now?" He asked haltingly when Dís and I bade him repeat himself, "Will he do?"

I did smile then, and genuinely. Dís returned it albeit with her eyes overly bright in the dying firelight. "He will more than _do_," I told him, feigning annoyance and recalling a time not so long before when the three of us had sat in that same room and had much the same conversation only it had been my sister who lay exhausted and I had not felt the least bit _fraternal_ towards Fitalí. He fell silent for a few more minutes though when he spoke it was clear he did not realise any time had passed.

"I am glad, because…" his eyes sought my sister's, some unspoken agreement passing between them, "Thorin, I am giving them _both_ to you."

I shook my head, "No." It was a ridiculous denial; his imminent passing was the very reason we were there so to deny his doing so was pointless. Still, I could not change it now. "They are _your_ sons, and my heirs. They will always be those things."

Though his eyes were wet, he smiled briefly, lips quirking on one side. He shook his head very slightly. "No, Thorin, _no,"_ he said as firmly as he could when his every breath seemed to pain him, "Not only _heirs_."

"_Nephews_, Brother," Dís said quietly when I did not reply, "Not heirs."

"Nephews," I agreed, squeezing his hand tightly, "You…you needn't worry for them."

"I don't," he assured me. "I truly don't, Thorin. They will be _great_, I know it in my heart but…but I shall not know them."

At his words, my sister suddenly released the slightest of sobs, her face buried in his neck. The sound very near broke my heart.

"_They_ will know _you_, my love," she whispered tearfully, her hand tightening on his.

He made no reply, his breathing slowing further still and eyes slipping closed again, his face angled into Dís' throat, her head resting atop his. When he had gone, I stood and laid my hand upon his forehead uttering the customary blessing for one who has recently passed. I did not attempt to comfort my sister, knowing that I could not help her in this grief but made for the door intending to seek out Balin and have arrangements made. Our dead are put to the earth as soon as possible, and there were many preparations to be completed ere he could be put to rest. I did not shed tears for there would be time enough for that during our week long _adùruth_ and long after but as I near fled the room, my sister's near silent sobs cutting me to my very core, I cursed Mahal that he should take yet more from my sister, from my people, from _me._

* * *

**A/N:****_ Adùruth – _****the mourning period**


	5. Haven - Dis

**Disclaimer****: Usual stuff applies. All hail Tolkien (and Jackson and co.)**

**A/N: Okay, so I thought I would get so much writing done once my thesis was finished, boy was I wrong. This has been sitting half done on my PC since about the time I posted the first chapter of this and in a fit of determination (and despair because none of my other WIPs or unfinished chapters/plots were going anywhere) I decided to take this out and finish it...hopefully you can't tell where I stopped and restarted. I'm so behind on all sorts of RL stuff as well at the moment, I'm not just neglecting FF, it's life in general that's sort of spiralling atm but on the bright side, I graduate in two months - scary stuff! Also, it occurs to me that I should never have started a kid!fic, I have no idea what children are like, I haven't really met one since I was one. Anyways...**

**As always, I would love to hear from anyone with thoughts or comments and will endeavour to reply to them all (whether you want me to or not really...no but seriously if you don't want me to then tell me).**

* * *

**Dis POV**

It had been a long time since I had been able to wander through these woods, untroubled by their towering heights or the way they seemed to whisper amongst themselves in the soft breeze. My husband had laughed and teased when he had first heard of my trepidation; unlike myself and my kin, he had been raised amidst the oft snow-capped firs in the North of Ered Luin, had been taught to mark his way home by even the most insignificant differences in bark patterns on each tree. His teasing had turned to gentle amusement and we had spent much of our courtship here, with my arm linked firmly through his as he valiantly ignored the blundering footsteps of my cousins who followed us through the forest each day. His grin when we had, for once, been able to lose my would-be chaperone in the undergrowth and Thorin had had us trail back hours later to lead Balin home still brought a smile to my face more than a decade after it had happened. I could lead my boys along these paths blindfolded now but still I wandered slowly, relishing the time I could spend with them away from duty and court just as I had with their father.

"Mama!" I looked up at my eldest's excited shout, smiling as he came sprinting back to take my hand and drag me along with him. "We found another! It's nearly hidden, but Kíli and I found it anyway!"

As we neared the tree – a narrow, somewhat unsteady looking fir whose branches began barely a head above me – Fíli released me and instead lifted his brother in his arms so that Kíli could paw clumsily at the trunk.

"Found it!" Kíli announced proudly as I joined them. I congratulated them both, smiling as I raised my hand to their discovery; the painstakingly etched rune was achingly familiar under my fingers, it's creator as dear to me as our children at my side.

"How many are there, Mama?" Fíli asked, placing his brother down and taking his hand as we set off again. Kíli pulled at our hands as we led him between us, face scrunched up as he tried to pull free.

"I don't know, my love," I told him lightly, though I knew precisely how many there were and upon exactly which trees they would be found, "Have you been counting?"

"Seven so far," he answered dutifully, already scanning the tree trunks for the next marker.

"Mama? Where do they go to?"

"It's a surprise," I told Kíli, watching his eyes widen with excitement.

We walked a few more paces while Kíli digested that information until he suddenly renewed his escape efforts, twisting and pulling at our hands until –

"OW!" Fíli shrieked, withdrawing his hand as if burned and scowling at his younger brother. "Mama! Look!" he demanded tearfully, coming to my other side and thrusting his hand up at me.

Kneeling, I released my hold on Kíli with a firm, "Stay there," before taking Fíli's hand in mine. As I had expected, two lines of pink marks were visible on his thumb where my younger son's teeth had closed around it. Shooting an annoyed look at his brother, Fíli sniffed as I raised his hand to my mouth. "There," I said, pressing my lips against the rapidly fading marks, "That's better now, isn't it?"

"Uh huh," Fíli whimpered, still sniffling and dragging his sleeve across his already dry eyes. "Mama, Kíli _bit _me. It really, _really_ hurt.""

"I know it did," I told him, trying not to smile at his dramatics, "But it's better now, isn't it?"

He hesitated a moment, still glaring resentfully at his brother but nodded eventually, his lower lip jutting out slightly.

"Why don't you go and find me the next sign?" I suggested, petting his hair. He sped off immediately, the incident all but forgotten. "Kíli," I said sternly, drawing out his name as my younger son began to edge off after his brother. "You do _not _bite. I will not have my son running around _biting_ people like a nasty little goblin boy."

Kíli gazed at me tearfully from behind curtains of dark waves, the very picture of contriteness. His whispered, "'m sorry, Mama," followed by a soft sniffle would have tugged at my heart had it not been for the frequency at which I was having to reprimand him for this behaviour recently. Holding both of his hands in one of mine, I raised his chin so that I could look into his face properly.

"I have told you this. Your Uncle has told you this. Do. Not. Bite." He sniffed again, but nodded. I stood and lifted him into my arms and letting him bury his face against my neck. "Any more naughtiness and we shall go home," I informed him, and this time my resolve did wobble as he released a quiet sob. I had no intention of turning back but he, of course, had no way of knowing that. "You are going to apologise to your brother and behave yourself."

"Yes, Mama," he said quietly as I set him down again near my elder son. I nudged Kíli and he eventually offered an apology, his eyes downcast. Fíli shrugged, the incident readily forgiven despite his earlier fuss and grinning at me, took off again through the trees with his brother in tow.

* * *

"Oh," I exclaimed at last, panting slightly as we reached the top of the hill, "We've found it at last, my boys!"

In my arms, Kíli wriggled to be set free that he could once more run wild with his brother. In the gulley below us, down a narrow, rocky path that all but disappeared in places lay the lake I had been looking for. As wide and calm as I had remembered it, it glittered deepest turquoise in the near midday sun. With a whoop, Fíli took off down the path before I had the time to stop him, and was at the water's edge before Kíli and I were even halfway down. As excited as I had been to bring them to this special place, I admit I had underestimated the care it would take to carry my suddenly-struck-lame youngest down the path. We made it eventually to the shale at the lakeside before Kíli overcame his sudden clinginess in favour of near throwing himself out of my arms to explore this wondrous new place I had brought them to. Laughing, I set him down and joined Fíli at the very edge of the water.

"It's very cold, Mama," he informed me, peering at me from behind golden curls. I tested it, removing my sandals and dipping my toes in. '_Very cold'_ Fíli had said; in fact, the water was perhaps a fraction below _warm_. Their father and I had swum here many times when the water left us near raw from cold, I would not force them to swim, but I certainly would not be put off by 'very cold'.

"It'll feel warmer once you're in," I assured him, slipping off his sandals and setting them behind us. As I lifted his tunic over his head and placed that down as well, I paused, biting my lip slightly – was I perhaps being over-eager? Were they _both _too young for this? "You told me you _wanted _to swim," I reminded him gently.

"I do!" he protested immediately, looking positively heartbroken.

"Well, then…?"

He swallowed, staring fearfully at the gently lapping water at his feet as if it would suddenly swell up and drown him where he stood. "Is it _very_ deep?" he asked eventually, his fingers straying to his mouth as he contemplated it.

"Only in the very middle," I answered honestly. I watched him for a moment, trying to quell the growing disappointment in my heart. I had _so _wanted to share this with them, to teach them to swim here as their father had taught me. Perhaps sensing my sadness, Fíli suddenly brightened.

"Can we eat first? I'll learn better if I eat!"

Smiling, I nodded and began gathering our discarded clothing to put further up the shore. We ate slowly, Kíli chattering away enough for all of us while Fíli watched the water dubiously, clearly still uncertain about going in. Eventually, as I packed away the remains of our luncheon, Fíli spoke again.

"Did Da swim?"

"Of course," I smiled, smoothing back the hair from his face, "Who did you suppose taught me? Your Uncle Thorin? Balin, perhaps?"

He grinned briefly, ducking his head before saying quietly, "Uncle Thorin says dwarves don't need to swim."

"Uncle Thorin says many things," I said dismissively, "Your father was a dwarf, and your father swam. Your uncle does not _need _to know how to swim _or _how to climb trees but your father taught him anyway. He does not _need _to –" I broke off, seeing Fíli's slightly shocked expression. I smiled again. "You never know when you _will_ have a need of these things, my love, your uncle does not know everything, he cannot see all ends. You never know…you might enjoy it."

He eyed me dubiously, absentmindedly chewing his fingernails until I reached out and stopped him. Letting him think for a moment, I turned my attention to my youngest who lay curled up in my lap. Drowsy after the trek out here, full of good food and warmed by the summer sun, Kíli had long since lost his battle with sleep.

"Mama?" Fíli said quietly after a while, "Are you…are you going to come with me?"

"Of course, I am!"

With that, I gently lifted Kíli to lie atop our folded discarded clothes where he would be out of harm's way whichever way he rolled and then slowly led Fíli back down to the waterside. Paddling for a while, it was some time before Fíli would allow himself to be led in any further into the water than knee level. Letting him splash, I slowly made my way further out until the water reached just below my hips before I called him to me.

"You're too far out!" he whined when he saw me, taking a few steps towards me before stopping. Holding my arms out to him, I waited. Suddenly, his face scrunched up and arms flailing, he leapt at me, almost knocking me over. Holding him tightly, I walked backwards a little further until he would have to swim or at least tread water to stay afloat. I pried him off me, murmuring encouragement to him as he gradually grew accustomed to the peculiar weightlessness of himself. After that it did not take much – a hand under his belly to keep him afloat as he kicked his little legs wildly and a ready embrace when he sank regardless or swallowed too much water – by mid-afternoon, my eldest was swimming circles around me where I stood and applauded him…perhaps 'swimming' was too kind a word, truthfully, he was little more than a writhing splash of white water and furiously flailing limbs. I felt my heart swell with pride every time he paused, treading water and beaming at me before setting off again.

"Mama?" As one, we turned our heads back towards the shore to where my youngest was trailing down to the waterside, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one small fist.

"Kíli! Come and play!" Fíli yelled at once, splashing furiously in his efforts to return to his brother. I joined them in the shallows, reaching out one hand to where Fíli was desperately trying to tempt Kíli in to the water. "It's not even cold, just wet. You'll enjoy it, I promise," he was saying, one hand on Kíli's shoulder as he led him closer. Kíli wrinkled his nose, eyeing the water as dubiously as his brother had earlier.

"Don't like it!" Kíli scowled almost the second his toes touched the water. Fíli huffed disappointedly, pouting tremendously at his little brother who remained entirely unmoved, his dark brows knit in a fearful scowl. "Nope, nope, nope," he told Fíli in a childishly stern voice, shaking his head determinedly.

"Mama, I want to _swim_!" Fíli whined quietly, turning his sad gaze upon me. On reflection, perhaps I had been rather over ambitious to believe I could get _both _of them into the water today or that Fíli would be content to swim without his brother joining him.

"Why so scared, my Kíli? Hm?" I said gently, sitting beside my youngest and lifting him to sit on my crossed legs where the water just barely touched his toes. Fíli fidgeted beside us for a moment then stood and wandered a little further in, stomping and splashing around whilst throwing sly little looks towards his brother.

"Not scared. Don't _like _it."

I tried not to smile; where Fíli's fears could be assuaged by making light of them, Kíli's seemed to only be fixed by tackling the issue head on – whether he admitted his fears or not. "You haven't tried it yet, my love," spoken with my nose in his hair, lips just brushing his ear.

Kíli paused before turning to blink enormous dark eyes at me, "Not _going _to like it, Mama," he informed me seriously.

"Well, let us see."

Thinking carefully – for Kíli was too small for my 'sink or swim' tactics – I unfurled my legs and sat him between my knees on the smooth pebbles. As the lapping water rose to cover his legs, he stared at me, open-mouthed. Experimentally, he kicked his legs a little before emitting a high pitched giggle, wriggling away from me to turn on to all fours. Seemingly all the better to splash me with. Again and again his antics doused my face in cool water, only pausing when his brother returned to us to join in.

Unlike my eldest, Kíli did not seem to take to the water. He quickly shed his grumpiness in favour of playing in the shallows with us both but when Fíli and I gently encouraged him to attempt swimming he immediately retreated, wet hair flying every which way as he shook his little head. Fíli eventually tired of trying to tempt his baby brother further in and returned to his swimming practice and soon Kíli began to tire of the water altogether.

* * *

"Thank you, Kíli," I smiled for the umpteenth time as Kíli scampered back to place yet another 'special' rock into my hands. He beamed at me, inordinately proud of himself, before hurrying off to scour the shore for more keepsakes. Fíli it seemed had finally tired himself out and now lay floating aimlessly on his back (occasionally coming up spluttering as he suddenly dipped below the water). I watched them both for a moment, leaning back in the afternoon sunlight and letting it warm me from head to toe.

Though this place would forever be my husband's place to me and although I felt his absence more keenly here than anywhere else, the day had far surpassed my expectations. When my husband had passed on, I had thought I would never face coming back here – with or without our children – and yet, though I had been worried it would not be the place I remembered, I had always known that I would eventually share this…sanctuary with our boys. My beloved Talí would have expected no less of me. Today had, in truth, been the most blissfully free and happy day I had experienced in months, maybe even years. But inevitably such bliss could only last so long before –

"Shirking duty as usual, Sister?"

I felt a badly suppressed smile tugging at my lips. "I have been led astray, my Lord," I said seriously, refusing to open my eyes just yet, "These rapscallions simply would not leave me be until I brought them here."

"A likely story," my elder brother scoffed from somewhere above my head. Sighing, I opened my eyes to see him perched upon an outcrop and leaning over me; had he not been my brother, or indeed, had he still been in possession of both of his eyebrows, I might have found his lurking threatening. Perhaps seeing my shocked concern, he shook his head and quickly dropped from his perch to sit beside me. "Dwalin became a little…overzealous with the bellows," he informed me, cutting short my appalled inquiry.

"You look ridiculous," I said honestly, looking him over from his frazzled hairline to his burnt forearms. I began to wonder how much burn salve I had left in my cupboards and whether I would need to buy more.

"I am perfectly well," he scowled, turning to watch my sons who had yet to notice his presence.

"Fíli has been swimming," I reported, watching him quirk an eyebrow doubtfully as my eldest son gave a shout and disappeared beneath the water for a few seconds. "You ought to join him; it would save you trailing this filth through my halls later."

Thorin hesitated and for a moment, I thought he would refuse – one could never be sure what my brother would feel was beneath him on any given day – but with a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and started on down to the water, shedding his layers as he went. I laughed aloud as he 'crept' up behind my youngest, grabbing him under his armpits and swinging him around with a roar. Kíli shrieked in shocked delight, wriggling and twisting about as Thorin tossed him up into the air and caught him once more.

"And what have you been doing, hm?" I could hear Thorin asking over Kíli's giggles, "Are you now half dwarf, half fish like your brother?"

Kíli shook his head wildly, reaching out for my brother's braids and seeming entirely unperturbed by the singed and blackened appearance. "Don't like it," Kíli confided seriously, eyes wide.

I barely resisted the urge to tut as I passed them, beckoning Fíli over with my hand.

"Don't like it?" Thorin repeated. Kíli shook his head, bottom lip jutting out. "Dear me, that is unfortunate."

"That's all right though, isn't it, Uncle?" Fíli asked breathlessly, standing dripping at my side. "Dwarves don't need to swim."

I watched a flicker of recognition cross my brother's face as his words were quoted back to him. "No," he said slowly, carefully, "They don't _need _to…"

"But it is great fun, isn't it, love?" I finished, ruffling Fíli's hair.

"Yes!" he said immediately.

"Here, hold _this_," Thorin suddenly said, handing Kíli to me before plunging headfirst into the water, Fíli following him excitedly. Kíli 'helped' me gather our things and stood obediently still while I redressed us both, after all, _one _of us needed to look presentable since I clearly could no longer trust my brother to do so. And finally, when my eldest son and my brother (now thankfully soot-free) emerged from the water, shaking water from their hair as they came, we began our ascent back up the rocky path.

We had not climbed further than perhaps half way up when Kíli – who had _insisted_ he wanted to walk up by himself – plopped himself down in the middle of the path behind us, a few tell-tale sniffles emerging from behind curtains of dark hair. Giving me a wry, long-suffering look, Thorin reached out and took my pack from me, shouldering it easily and continuing on as I went to retrieve my little one. When I eventually caught up with them again – for if walking down whilst carrying my youngest had been difficult, it was nothing compared with trying to climb back up – Thorin was waiting patiently at the top of the hill, bag in one hand and Fíli clinging to the other, face buried sleepily in his side.

"Did we keep you waiting?" I asked with my brows raised as I reached them, more than a little annoyed at having been left to struggle up with Kíli hanging like a dead weight around my neck.

"No," Thorin said mildly, either entirely unaware or uncaring of my ire. Taking in my dishevelled appearance and increasingly exasperated face, he added, "Did you struggle?"

For all his stratagems and knowledge, I wonder how my brother can be so obtuse. Wordlessly, I stared at his bewildered expression before turning to my eldest son.

"Shall we rest before we go on?" I asked him, expecting a grudging agreement; he had certainly not gone up the path as quickly as he had gone down it earlier but he was surely exhausted from the climb. To my surprise, he simply shrugged, glancing briefly at my brother.

"'m not tired, Mama," he said boldly, even as my name was lost in an enormous yawn that turned into a surprised sort of yelp as my brother hoisted him up into his arms.

"Ah, the energy of youth," Thorin said wryly, shaking his head as Fíli, far from protesting, burrowed his face into his uncle's neck and sighed contentedly. Slinging my bag up onto his shoulder once more, my elder brother set off again knowing that I would follow. We walked in silence for a few minutes until I grew uncomfortable with feeling my brother's eyes on me and bade him find his tongue or lose it. He did smile, briefly.

"It is a long time since I have had to come and fetch you from that place," he said quietly, eyes roaming the woods around us but never settling upon me.

"Yes, it is."

"A decade, certainly."

It had not been that long. It _could _not be that long. I shook my head, not trusting my own voice. But of course, Thorin thought only of when hepersonally had ventured out to fetch me. He did not – or rather could not – think of the times my husband and I had spent out here, only wandering home when darkness fell and our warm hearth beckoned.

"I was glad," Thorin murmured when I did not reply, "to be informed you had gone there today."

"You never were _before_."

I blinked. The bitterness, the _anger _I had felt at my brother's no doubt heartfelt words, dissipated as quickly as it had come. To his credit – and my own shame, for my sharp words must have hurt him – though his entire body stiffened, his chin raising slightly as he eyed me without turning, Thorin made no comment. The silence we lapsed into now was not a comfortable one.

"I _told _him not to do this," Thorin said suddenly, scowling at one of the carefully etched rune that my sons had been so thrilled at finding earlier on.

"They were for _your _benefit," I muttered, feeling the need to defend my beloved but not wanting to further spoil what had been a truly lovely day by quarrelling, "Well, _ours._"

Beside me, Thorin grunted noncommittally, pausing and shifting Fíli from one arm to the other before continuing.

"Uncle Thorin?" Drowsily, Fíli sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes. "Kíli _bit _me."

Thorin turned startled eyes upon my youngest who still lay sleeping soundly against my shoulder.

"Not _now_."

I vow Fíli sounded every bit as exasperated at his uncle as I had earlier felt.

"Did he?" Thorin intoned sternly, though his frown was entirely lost upon my obliviously slumbering youngest. I shook my head slightly against Kíli's – a silent reassurance that the matter was not serious and no action was required upon my brother's part.

"Mmhm," Fíli whimpered piteously nonetheless, gazing wide-eyed at his uncle. I had to suppress a smile, as I knew precisely what would happen next; I was not disappointed. "It hurts."

Thorin took up Fíli's proffered hand, examining the smooth and entirely unblemished skin.

"I've no doubt," said with a sidelong glance at me, "Younger sibs have such sharp teeth."

Pouting, Fíli nodded seriously before raising his hand higher towards my brother's face; adding a few sniffles for good measure before saying simply, "Kiss?"

Letting loose another long-suffering sigh that spoke more of his indulgence than his disapproval, my brother did so, raising my son's hand to his lips and pressing briefly, smirking at the immediate grin that lit up Fíli's face as Thorin's beard tickled his hand.

"Better?" I asked Fíli knowingly and watching him nod happily before settling back in against Thorin's shoulder.

"Uncle?" Fíli began again a few minutes later.

"Yes?"

Fíli hesitated a fraction before saying quickly, "Do I still have to train tomorrow?"

"Yes, Fíli," both my brother and I said immediately. A heartbeat, then –

"What if my hand still hurts?"

"_If _your brother's teeth have left you incapable of wielding a sword," Thorin began, sharing my grin, "then you may leave off training in the morning, but I shall be _having words_ with your brother."

Fíli squirmed, stuck between the desire to stay at home and play (and prolong his uncle's affection in response to his 'wounding'), and his fierce desire to protect his younger brother from any unjust punishment. Like myself, Thorin seemed to hold his breath, intrigued as to which outcome our eldest little one would choose.

Fíli huffed before muttering, "I suppose it isn't _that _bad."

"Are you quite certain?" I asked mildly.

"It'll be better by training, Mama," Fíli said at last, blinking sleepily against the firelight flickering into the night from behind shutters on the first houses of our town.

"I shall warn your teacher that you are injured," Thorin murmured, shaking his head as Fíli 'hmmed' happily and began to drop off again. Glancing at me several times before speaking, Thorin began quietly, "It must have been very hard for you."

"Kíli only bit Fíli, and he doesn't bite _that _hard," I replied confidently, deliberately misunderstanding him.

"Dís."

I sighed harshly, annoyed at my brother's persistence when, for once, I should have liked to keep my thoughts to myself.

"It was fine – good, even – it was just as I remembered it."

"You shall have to go back there very soon," Thorin prompted quietly, though I could sense his resolve beginning to crumble under my refusal to be drawn in.

"No," I stated tightly, shaking my head, "We shan't go back…I shan't."

"Dís…," he let his protest trail off and I could feel his intense gaze upon me.

"No."

How could I return there? To a place that had only ever belonged – in my own mind and that of my brother at least – to my husband and me? That would have been our place – his and mine and our children's – but it could never be _our _place without him. I was glad to have gone, to have shared with them that secret haven where duty and burdens seemed to fade away to nothing but I would not go back. That place had been _ours,_ and maybe one day it would become one of theirs but I would not – could not _ever _– allow it to become _mine._


	6. Conflict: Part 1 - Tali

**Fitali's (father) POV**

* * *

"Thorin!" I called over my shoulder, unsheathing what was perhaps the mightiest sword I had ever seen. "Thorin, look at _this_!"

I felt him at my side and turned, sheathing the sword and handing it to him. Even to my somewhat untrained eyes, it wasa good sword, intricately engraved with swirling patterns that intertwined right up to the hilt; even the scabbard was finer than any I had seen before. I was quite certain it had not been forged here or in Ered Luin – it was finest steel inlayed with gold and I defied Thorin to find a finer weapon within a thousand leagues of here. He looked it over appraisingly before raising grudgingly approving eyes to mine.

"It is exceptional," he commented, sounding very surprised and gesturing its seller over to enquire after its origins.

Casting cold, sharp eyes over us and then down at my son, the man leant over as though imparting some great secret, beckoning us forward. "It is very fine, very fine indeed," he whispered, taking the sword and demonstrating its almost perfect balance, "forged in the East where the mountains are _rich_ with ore."

Thorin and I exchanged glances at the man's thinly veiled slight but thankfully, my brother-in-law made no retort except to take it back and test its weigh himself, feigning a jabs and such.

"Does it come from E'bor?" my young son piped up, craning his neck until I lifted him to see properly. Seeing him staring, Thorin stopped his exercises and held it still for Fíli to see (though I was glad to see he kept it _just _out of my son's reach – I did not like to think of the injury my son could do himself otherwise).

"I highly doubt it," Thorin informed him dryly, though he looked to the haggard merchant for confirmation.

"It _is_ forged by your kind, in the Iron Hills but it has been wielded by _elves _in Mirkwood. You see these markings? They are theirs," he said, now addressing Fíli as though telling him a fantastical story. I winced for him; he was not to know that little else would put an end to his potential sale quicker than the knowledge that the sword had once belonged to Thranduil's people. Beside me, as I could have predicted he might, Thorin cursed in Khuzdul and thrust the weapon back at its master before striding away without another word. I smiled apologetically at the crestfallen human but hurried after Thorin as the man's gaze turned dark and fixed on my son and me. Thorin and my wife's people lived and worked among the Dunlendings for years before settling in Ered Luin and, though they had always been a savage lot, they seemed more hostile than ever to us dwarves now that _they_ travelled to _us _with their wares. Even within Ered Luin, it did not do to linger too long amongst the Dunlendings by oneself – they had a cold, almost hungry look about them that I had never liked even as a child.

We found Thorin eventually, staring blindly at a stall of intricately made jewellery and clasps. The wizened old dwarf sat behind it was dozing on and off, silver bearded chin nodding off his chest every so often. Beside him, I saw what could only be his daughter casting appreciative glances towards my brother-in-law. Grinning, I sidled up beside Thorin and asked (perhaps a little loudly) if he had seen anything he liked the look of; though Thorin was completely oblivious, I did not miss the way the young maid perked up, smoothing her admittedly impressive ebony beard.

"Would you like to see anything…closer?" she asked him, blinking large brown eyes at him. Though the Blacklocks are skilled in many arts – drawing, jewellery and all manner of other artistries – the art of subtlety is one that often eludes us but I had thought that I, with my Firebeard blood as well, was the worst of us. Clearly, I had been wrong. I looked sidelong at my brother-in-law, feeling amusement tugging at my lips again. Far from the troubled, furious look he had worn when we arrived, he now looked frankly alarmed.

I felt as if I would burst from the effort to keep from laughing as I saw my unflappably superior brother-in-law brought down to a stuttering fool by a flirtatious young maid who either did not know, or had no respect for who he was. Still, the decorations did look quite fine. My wife had often despaired of ever finding a suitable woman for her brother and, though I understood why she wanted to see him settled and – Mahal forbid – _happy_ as we were, Thorin had said (repeatedly) that he was unsuited to it and therefore did not wish that for himself. I could not help but feel that that should be reason enough for Dís. All the same, it had to be said, it was highly entertaining watching him attempt to negotiate such instances as this.

"Here," I said loudly, thrusting a slightly protesting Fíli into his arms and removing several small trinkets from where my errant son had secreted them in his tunic, "Hold _this_."

Thorin looked immensely relieved, lifting Fíli and making a show of being entirely immersed in scolding him soundly for his sticky-fingered antics. I turned my attention to the table of jewellery; there were some _very _beautiful things. Though I was by my heritage a somewhat gifted jeweller I could not have created half the things this talented family had done. I looked over several items, wondering what I might take back for Dís who was now too heavily with child to have accompanied us. I did not like to leave her alone in such a state but it had been many moons now since I had ventured this far from Thorin's Halls into the south of Ered Luin. The market seemed to have doubled; certainly, there were a good deal more Dunlending men attempting to sell their wares than when I had last visited though that was hardly unexpected; from what Dwalin and his patrol had reported when last they ventured across Tharbad, the tribes of men who lived there were hardly prospering. If it were not for the trade it brought to our gates, I would have pitied them.

When I eventually left the stall – leaving the young lady with a fair amount of coin as well as my sworn oath that I would bring my 'friend' to see her again – my son and his uncle were again nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd of dwarves and men. I was not concerned, Fíli was as safe with his uncle as he was with me and was thus far too timid a boy to run off as I would have at his age. I made my way through the market, lingering here and there to peruse dog-eared books of Shire cooking or heavy-bound genealogy tomes and pausing every so often to pass the time of day with the traders. I was not so well known as Thorin of course, nor even as my dear wife but I had lived here far longer than they had so there were, of course, those with whom I was distant kin or at least familiar but they were not and I did not speak with them as often now as perhaps I ought. I was flicking through a book and carrying on a pleasant chat with a lass I had a vague feeling might be a distant cousin of my late mother's when I felt a presence at my side.

"Hullo!" I grinned, turning to see Thorin reading over my shoulder, "I've found you at last then."

"It was hardly_ I_ who needed finding," Thorin said coolly, "_You_ are more liable to slip away than the boy."

Bidding my lady companion goodbye, I turned and raised my brows disbelievingly at him.

"What is it then," he began, taking the book from my hands and turning to the front, "that drew your attention so?" He glanced back at me, scowling disapprovingly. "Children's tales – and from M_en_ at that."

"I have a child, soon I shall have two," I shrugged, leaning down to lift Fíli from where he was bouncing excitedly between the two of us, "And all children need to be told stories – as many as possible."

"Send him to Balin then," Thorin snapped, "You would ne'er see him again for all the tales _he _would tell – and they would be considerably more suitable. He ought to learn his own lore before that of others."

I sighed. Truthfully, I had had no intention of buying the book in question until Thorin had made his disapproval known. But Fíli was _my_ son, I would read him whatever tales I pleased and Thorin would just have to lump it – I briefly wished there had been some Elvish tome there I could have bought just to prove a point. Still, it '_would not do'_ to make a spectacle of us arguing in the street over something as trivial as what was and was not appropriate as a story for my son. Besides which, I did not intend to do anything to infuriate Thorin – Dís would want him by her side when our next child arrived and it was not unheard of for my brother to withdraw entirely from us for days after a disagreement.

"I _want_ to hear their stories. Do Men tell good tales, Da?" Fíli asked around his fingers – a long-forgotten habit he seemed to have been indulging in more and more recently.

"No better than your father." I was not certain whether it had been a compliment or not, given Thorin's opinion of any race other than our own. "And stop _that_," Thorin said, suddenly frowning and reaching out to draw Fíli's hand firmly down and away from his mouth.

"They tell _different_ stories, Fíli," I told him, holding both of his hands in one of mine to prevent them creeping back to his mouth, "But your Uncle is right, there are _plenty_ of stories to be heard before theirs."

Fíli looked crestfallen and I considered buying the cursed thing anyway but his look brightened as he looked out across the bustling marketplace, wriggling to be set free. Following his line of sight, I smiled.

"Would you like to visit the toy sellers, Fíli?"

My son's wriggling intensified and he turned his earnest little face to me, nodding vigorously. I set him down, keeping a hold on his hand lest he run off elsewhere – not that he would be in any real danger from our own people but these Men were something different entirely. I would not trust them with my least-favoured hound, let alone my precious little boy.

"Will you be joining us," I asked, turning to Thorin, "Or are such things beneath you, _my lord_?"

He glared at me but fell in to step with me anyway as we made our way through the crowd.

"It is not a matter of station!" he muttered as we walked, "It is a matter of your son – _my heir_ – caring more for places he has never seen and a race that is _nothing_ to do with him before his own lineage!"

I snorted. This was ridiculous. Thorin seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that Fíli's naturally wanting to hear every childishly fantastical tale he could even those by other races equated to my son's imminent abdication.

"It was just a book, Thorin," I reminded him shortly, frustrated that he was ruining a perfectly nice outing, "a silly book of stories just like any other."

"We have our _own_ tales to tell."

"Yes," I muttered, "of dragon-guarded gold and wandering kings lost in battle." Even as I said the words, I knew I had gone too far.

Erebor had not been my home; I had never seen its splendour let alone its ruin; it was not my place to tell Thorin or his kin to stop grieving for the life they had known or for the people they had lost. Thorin stopped dead beside me and even my son seemed to know I had said something awful, his hand tightened in mine and, glancing down, I could see him gazing timidly up at his uncle. "Thorin…" I began, unsure what to say. He stared at me – I had expected him to be furious, violent even but instead, he looked almost…hurt – for once seeming lost for words. He drew himself up and I instinctively braced myself – not that he and I would ever truly harm one another, our mutual love and respect for my dear wife prevented that – but Fíli suddenly gave a small whimper as we sized up. Thorin's gaze dropped briefly to my son who was clinging fearfully to my leg; raising his eyes again Thorin glared.

"I have business elsewhere," he said stiffly, his entire demeanour exuding barely contained fury, "The guard will escort you back whenever you are ready but do not linger – my sister will want the boy back by nightfall."

I thought to apologise but he was already turning from us and striding away, the crowd parting for him as he passed – a furious Thorin Oakenshield was something with which none would argue. I felt the flush creeping up my neck as I felt all eyes turn to me; I dropped to a crouch before my son.

"Is Uncle angwy?" he asked tearfully, fingers in his mouth once more.

"Extremely," I told him honestly, drawing his hand away, "But not at you."

He eyed me doubtfully, brows creased.

"Shall we go and look at the toys now?"

He shrugged, lip trembling slightly.

"Would you like me to carry you?"

He hesitated a fraction of a second before wrapping his arms around my neck and waiting for me to pick him up. Settling him on my hip, I made for the best stall I could think of. I had passed it earlier and made a promise to myself that I would take both Fíli and my new child, when he was born, to see the cheerful young dwarf that sold marvellous little figures such as I had never seen – far better than any that I could create, certainly. Fíli remained silent as we walked, despite my best attempts to engage him in conversation; I could feel my shirt getting damp beneath his face. I cursed both his uncle and myself; he had been so excited when we had left – at dawn no less – to be accompanying us both here, chattering non-stop all the way here and now it seemed it was all I could do to get a single word out of him.

"Back so soon?" Inquired the fellow behind the stall, standing and grinning as I approached. "I knew you wouldn't keep away," he sighed, feigning melancholy, "There are few who can."

"My son needs a gift for someone," I informed him, bouncing Fíli on my hip, "he is soon to have a new sib."

"Ah, no wonder he seems so sad!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together and leaning down to whisper conspiratorially to Fíli, "Little brothers are _ghastly_ things – they never play fair in fights and they eat _all_ your food."

At Fíli's uncertain look, the man stepped back and gestured pointedly at a decidedly rotund chap with flaming red hair sat close by. Fíli turned a look of wide-eyed betrayal upon me, as though he could not believe I was willing to inflict such a thing upon him.

"He is teasing you, Fíli," I laughed, unable to let the man go on any longer when my son seemed so distressed, "Do not look so horrified!"

"I am that," the merchant said, reaching out and ruffling my son's light hair, "Ah brothers, they're a wonderful thing – you're never alone when you have a brother, my lad." He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Course, you're _never_ _alone _either."

I laughed again, enjoying the fellow's teasing humour and the way my son seemed to have completely forgotten my falling out with his uncle earlier. He did not understand what the man was implying but that hardly mattered, he was clearly willing to wait patiently for us to stop our 'grown up talk' and return to him.

"Now then," my new friend said in mock seriousness, folding his arms and gazing appraisingly at Fíli, "What would you be after Master…?"

"Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thrain – Thror's son," Fíli dutifully recited before adding in wide-eyed solemnity "Thror was King of E'bor, you know."

Our companion's eyes widened slightly and he turned to me as if seeking confirmation. "Really?"

"Yes, Thor'n told me. He was King-of the-Mountain 'till the dagon came."

"King-_under_-the-Mountain," I corrected softly, smiling at Fíli's earnestness.

"No, I mean…" the young fellow trailed off, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. It was understandable really, it was hardly everyday he had a child at his stall who turned out to be Thorin's heir. We stood in silence for a moment, neither of us certain what to say.

"What's this?" Fíli asked suddenly, leaning forward to grasp one of the figurines laid out in front of us. The man seemed to return to himself, shaking himself as though waking from a trance and leaping into action with Fíli.

"_That_ was made by my cousin – over there – it's an orc, nasty creatures, have you seen one?" Fíli shook his head, giggling at the man's enthusiastic questioning. "Really? I thought for sure _you'd_ have taken down _hundreds_ of them. No? Well, it's probably for the best. P'rhaps I could interest you in this one?" He placed the distressingly bloodied orc figurine down and lifted a rather more appropriate dwarf-like figure with a hammer in his hands. Fíli's brows creased into the most glorious pout as his eyes trailed back to the orc and its frightening companions – goblins, startlingly vicious looking dragons, wargs and other fell beasties – and he gazed longingly at them before sighing and reaching for the proffered toy.

"I made that one myself," our companion commented, looking over the various other figures before lifting another and handing it to me, winking proudly. I glanced down; in my hand, I held a very small but well-made dwarf figure with a branch-like shield bound to one arm.

"It's marvellous," I informed him, laughing. Fíli peered over at it interestedly but turned away, nose scrunched, as he realised it was 'just another dwarf'. I frowned slightly; Thorin's life read like that of a storybook hero – the prince in exile – he was revered, loved even by most of his people, indeed even my own people who had been here longest looked to him as their leader. Fíli, of all people, should understand and be proud of that, should recognise the tragedies and trials he had gone through to become that leader. But he didn't. To my son, Thorin was the ever-present shadow who haunted our halls, barely speaking but to ridicule me or scold him, certainly never laughing or – Mahal forbid – _playing _with him. Fíli knew nothing of his mother and uncle's losses save what Thorin himself had told him and even that was previous little – for all Thorin insisted Fíli ought to know everything about their history, he seemed reluctant to tell him the details.

Eventually, we settled upon twin horse statuettes with real, soft manes for Fíli and his future sibling and, much to our seller's amusement, I also took the figurine of my brother-in-law as a gift for my wife – she would find it every bit as amusing as I had, I knew. Thanking him, we wandered away, making for our agreed upon meeting point.

The ride home was uncomfortable to say the least. Fíli fell quickly into sleep once we set off, lulled by the steady movement of the pony and the excitement of the day. Without my son's cheerful patter to engage us all, we quickly became acutely aware of how little my wife's kin and I had to say to one another. It would have been better if we had come by wagon as my wife had originally suggested – a place for Fíli to be sheltered and safe whatever the weather and a place for me to well, hide out and avoid my surly companions until we reached our town again. But of course, Thorin had insisted we ride and I had agreed, as we had both pointed out this morning, the more time I was seen to spend in his company and be emulating my brother-in-law the better.

Curled in the folds of my travelling cloak, Fíli stirred, blinking dazed blue eyes up at me as we passed through the gates into the Northern sector of Ered Luin. I sniffed a grin as he sighed contentedly, one hand again sneaking up to his mouth as he snuggled closer into my chest. It would not be long now until he had a younger sibling – a sister or brother with whom he could cause mayhem throughout the kingdom as Dís looked on, innocently informing her brother that she could not think where our children would have gotten the idea for their mischief. I wondered if Fíli would take to his position as an elder brother as easily as, by all accounts, his uncle had. I would needst cherish these moments, these last few days before my days were once more occupied with constantly worrying that my wife was overtaxing herself caring for our newborn and my nights filled with squalling cries that demanded our attention ere all of Ered Luin was awoken. And then there was Thorin.

Though my wife was utterly convinced our new child would be a boy – which, as long as he was healthy, would by no means disappoint me – some small, selfish part of me wished for a girl. As proud as I was of my own kin – though we were by no means _special_ – and as much as I adored my wife and respected my brother-in-law and their kin, hearing Fíli so confidently claim their ancestry over my own earlier in the day had stung me. Was he not every bit as much my son as hers? Had Thorin and their cousins not groused for months after his birth about how much he resembled me over them in appearance? But as much as Dís and of course, Thorin and just about every other member of the kingdom wished for another heir to Durin's line, would a girl not be better? Thorin's line was secure in my son (though as Dís reminded me when I spoke of my feelings on matter, nothing was set in stone until Thorin officially accepted Fíli as his heir); he would have no use for my _daughter_ until she came of age. For now, Fíli was mine but every day he would become less my son and more Thorin's heir.

_Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror – King-Under-the-Mountain._

_Fíli, son of Fitalí, son of Fahím – scholar-under-the-thatchwork._

There really was no contest. As long as Thorin and his council accepted him, Fíli was as good as his. Sometimes I wondered whether I even _wanted _Thorin to like my child – children – nonsense, of course. I wanted Thorin to love and approve of Fíli and this new child as much as Dís and I did – Durin knew Fíli deserved it. It was an appalling thing for me to think of my brother-in-law who, for all our differences, I truly did care for, but I often wondered if he would take half as much of an interest in Fíli if he were not so useful to him – if Thorin had an heir of his own, would mine fade into insignificance? Perhaps. If Thorin gave up the mantle of his birth right and sought simply to be the head of _our family_ rather than _their people_ would he see Fíli and any more of my children as _mine _and not his? Probably. Would he care more for the little boy Fíli was than the adult he would become? Almost certainly. But could I ever ask that of him? Or even of my wife?

No. I could not, would in fact never consider it even in our most violent arguments. But still…a daughter would be best. A daughter would be cherished, protected as Dís had been and so too, as the sole heir, would Fíli. A brother and Thorin could afford to be careless – what would it matter if one were to be lost in some pride-fuelled battle as Dís' other brother had been? Thorin would yet have a _spare _to take his place.

"Fitalí?"

I blinked, shocked to find myself back at the stables of our own town with the sun mostly set and my brother-in-law looking questioningly at me from where he stood at my pony's head.

"Talí?" Thorin repeated, the name sounding stiff and alien coming from his lips. "Hand me the boy," Thorin said suddenly, arms already reaching up to take Fili from mine. When I did not move except to drop my gaze to my sleeping son, he repeated the command more loudly. Fili squirmed slightly before sitting up properly and blinking owlishly at our surroundings before looking in sleepy confusion between his uncle and me.

"Da?"

Fili's voice, small and questioning seemed to wake me from whatever trance I had been in and I handed my seemingly boneless son to my wife's brother, watched Fili – already halfway back to sleep – nuzzle his face into the crook of Thorin's shoulder as easily as he had with me and felt anger and bitterness explode within me. Turning, I dismounted and as my pony was led away turned to face them once more. I glared, feeling my hands trembling from the depths of my fury; all traces of his earlier ire gone, Thorin looked back at me, as unreadable and unperturbed in the face of my anger as always.

"Well?"

I struggled with restraint then. His brow raised in arrogant invitation, Thorin watched as I forced myself to bite back the rage that would have had me scream at him until my lungs burned, until my throat felt raw, until he understood even the slightest bit how deeply and unabashedly I respected and loved both him and his sister but how in that moment I found that I hated – truly, with every fibre of my being _hated – _what they were. _Durin's line. King-Under-the-Mountain. _The one man in the world that I could ever – would ever need to – entrust with my son's future and the woman who had made it so.

Lips trembling, feeling the heat rise up in my face and my entire body shaking with suppressed emotion to which I could hardly put a name, I turned and fled.

* * *

**A/N: I tried for happy, I really did. But his situation just well...sucks. I'm feeling kind of positive about this at the moment though so watch this space. With any luck, the second part of this story (it would have been too long to put as one chapter IMO) will be posted if not tomorrow then by the end of the week and will actually be happier (although it'll most likely start sad-ish).**

**Hope people aren't too disappointed that I've been MIA for well, ages it feels like and that ****_this_**** is what I came up with...Actually it's really not that long; I mean I did Banks recently right? Although that didn't really count because it had been sitting 3/4 finished on my pc since January...Anyway, hope it wasn't disappointing.**

**T.**


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